


Children of the Sun

by Illgetmerope



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, First Time, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Modern AU, Mythology Adaptation, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Soulmates AU, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 81,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23927629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illgetmerope/pseuds/Illgetmerope
Summary: For as long as Aaron can remember he’s had this itch between his shoulder blades. It's a constant hum and tingle along his spine, sometimes ebbing and flowing, but always there. Recently the pain has come with nightmares.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 553
Kudos: 477





	1. Chapter 1

For as long as Aaron can remember he’s had this itch between his shoulder blades. As a kid it made him hunch and curl into himself, spine curved in a desperate attempt to stretch the skin, rub it against the fabric covering his back. He’d get in trouble in school for wiggling in his seat, trying to press the chair back against the spot.

When he turns eighteen it gets worse, spreading sometimes to engulf his whole back in fire, putting his teeth on edge and making him layer hoodies over his jumpers, trying to smother the burn beneath fabric. There’s no telling when or where it will flare up, fizzing along his spine.

He learns that he can drown it out in other ways, but that ends with him in hospital and his mum sobbing by the bed, voice broken as she begs him to stop. 

By his mid twenties he mostly manages to tune it out with a set in his jaw that steels him against the exhausting activity of his nerves. He’s talked to a specialist who diagnosed him with notalgia paresthetica. They don’t even know why he’s got it. Maybe an injury when he was young. 

All Aaron really hears is there’s no cure.

He learns to get by. 

He wears compression shirts that press against the skin and help keep the tingling stings at bay.

On nights when it gets too much he drinks until he can’t feel anything.

Or finds someone to press his shoulders against rough walls and make the humming in his bones bearable. 

He copes.

Until one night he wakes up gasping, skin hot and tacky, shirt sticking to his skin. There’s a scream trapped in his lungs, sheet clutched in his fists.

He can’t remember anything from the nightmare, but his whole back is alight with pain. It’s like hundreds of needles have been stuck into his skin, stretching in a T across his shoulders and running down his spine.

The pain is overwhelming all his instincts. He can’t calm down enough to inhale, his lungs are beginning to ache. His knuckles white with the clench around handfuls of fabric.

He throws off his sheet and pushes out of bed, reaching blindly in the dark for his phone, the sweat on his hands making it slip and fall to the floor.

He leans forward to grab for the rectangle of light on the ground, curling down onto his knees desperately, trying to feel anything but the searing pain.

And then it just _stops._

His back is cool and quiet. Still damp from adrenaline and fear, but blissfully clear of pain.

He sucks in a greedy gasp of air, peeling the shirt off his back and feeling the chill of the room hit his skin. He’s shaking, hands trembling. All he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and his labored breathing.

What.

The. 

_Fuck._

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron doesn’t fall back asleep that night, frantically scrolling through search results on his phone looking up potential causes or other cases where this has happened.

There’s a Reddit post where a woman says she had years of mild itching and then sudden severe flare ups for weeks. A follow up post says one day they just stopped. He clicks her user name, wanting to see if she still has the mild itch, but all her recent posts are in wedding communities.

Aaron sees she’s really into handmade centerpieces, but no sign of any more posts in medical communities.

He has a strange moment of hope. Maybe the flares are his nerves connecting back into his system, a pain worth the later relief. 

_Or it’s something worse. Something truly wrong._

He shakes his head at the gnawing fear in his gut. Twists himself, stretching as far as he can, testing to see if he can feel any change.

There’s nothing.

He turns on the light in the bathroom, blinking as his eyes adjust. Looks at himself in the mirror, notes the darkened circles under his eyes. 

_Haven’t been sleeping well recently. Bad dreams._

He twists awkwardly, looking over his shoulder trying to see his own back. Eventually he pulls out his phone and uses the camera to see. The pale skin is unremarkable as ever. 

He puts the phone down, braces his palms on the counter and looks down into the sink. He’s chilled now, the cool of the room sending goosebumps across his skin. 

He sighs and reaches for his toothbrush, deciding to give in and begin his day. There’s nothing to be done. He’s not going in for more useless tests. Poked and prodded by doctors who, for the most part, think the sensations are all in his head.

The same experts that think his medical history confirms he’s _mentally ill._ And therefore someone to be ignored.

He looks up, brush in his mouth, foam on his lips, and makes a face.

_It was nothing. Just a nightmare and a pinched nerve._

Once he’s spit and washed his face he can feel the tension has slipped from the tendons along his neck as the nightmare moves back into the dark corners of his mind that it sprang from.

By the time he’s wrapped himself back up in his standard layers, and had his toast and tea, he’s started to wonder if the pain was all a piece of his nightmare, if his mind had wrapped the itch in darkness and warped it into a terror.

He occupies himself piling meat onto buttered bread, knowing the day’s appointments won’t give him much time to run and grab anything. He frowns into his fridge and is pleasantly surprised to find a tomato he’d shoved behind some takeaway cartons. He wraps the sandwich up and shoves a half-full bag of crisps alongside.

Aaron avoids the bedroom as he gets his coat and shoes. Can’t face the rumpled sheets and discarded shirt.

Stepping out into the fresh cold air of Manchester in the morning, he sets off to the garage, the weight in his steps lightening as he moves through the world.

His shoulders itch as they always do when he walks too quickly and that settles it.

_It was just a dream._

____________________________________

  
  


By midday Aaron’s in a mood from a night of broken sleep and a rusted out set of bolts that are making the engine rebuild he’s working on take twice as long as normal. He’s swearing at nobody as he’s bent over the bonnet, elbows bruised under his sleeves from slipping and banging into the walls, wrestling with a bolt he can’t see.

He can just barely hear his boss talking to a customer over his own breathing as he finally works the bolt free only to find that the components are rusted together. 

With a groan of frustration he tries to tug the corroded pieces, grime-covered hands unable to fully grasp at the parts. He finally pulls back, wiping his hands on his rag and staring into the engine in annoyance.

In his frustration he’d not noticed the itching is worse than normal. It’s spread to most of his upper back, the sweat from work prickling across his skin uncomfortably.

He flexes and rolls his shoulders, looking up at the ceiling in a silent question for whether the day is going to get worse.

He can hear Mark joke with the man he’s been dealing with. Aaron can only hope the car coming in is less of a heap of junk. He glares at the offending pile of parts that would be better in a scrap yard than occupying his time.

He sighs and leans back in, hoping that with dryer hands that he’ll be able to wrench the bits apart so he can at least replace what he needs to.

_Even if it’ll be back here in a few months with that suspension._

“Aaron!” Mark’s voice surprises him.

He’s proud he’s learned from years at the garage not to startle when he gets called, or else he’d have brained himself on the bonnet.

“Once you’re done with that we’ve got a Porsche 944 outside that needs a tune up by tomorrow.”

Aaron nods in assent before realizing no one can see him. 

“Got it.”

_At least that’s something to look forward to._

As he settles back into work he’s happy to realize his back aches a little less, the itch settling into the background hum he’s grown used to.

____________________________________

  
  


It’s past three when Aaron finally gets to take a look at the Porsche. It’s sleek and silver, and when he sits inside it to pull it into the garage the leather is soft. The bloke who owns it must wear cologne, because it _smells_ posh.

Sitting in the seat makes Aaron’s whole back ache again, so he climbs out as quickly as he can and gets to work assessing what needs to be done by end of day so he can put a call in to their other garages if he needs a part. 

He kind of misses the warm spiced cedar smell of the interior.

There’s not much wrong with the car, a timing belt issue he can easily repair, and some minor fluid level checks. The brake pads need replacing in the next few months.

“Mark, call the owner of the Porsche and let him know he’ll need new brake pads soon. I can do it in the morning if he’d rather get it done now.” He calls over his shoulder to the office.

The grunt of acknowledgement behind him is followed by the squeak of the office chair as Mark goes to make the call.

He busies himself checking connectors for corrosion and making sure the suspension is good. He’s probably a bit too thorough, but the way this car is clearly cared for makes him want to.

“He says do it.” Mark’s voice is muffled, probably by his five o’clock sausage roll. 

Aaron nods, “I think we’ve got them here, but if we don’t I’ll run over before I come in tomorrow morning and grab them from Rick’s.”

“Right. Tell my do-nothing of a brother that I _know_ he took the whiskey.” 

Rolling his eyes at once again being the go-between for the family, Aaron shrugs while closing the bonnet and wiping off his hands, “No promises.”

A meaty hand claps him on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Dingle.” 

Aaron waves his goodbye as he checks for the part, groaning when he sees the empty space on the shelf.

____________________________________


	2. Chapter 2

Aaron finds himself propped up against the bar at his local, silently drinking a pint and listening to the chatter of the pub, trying to work the pain from his shoulders with a drink and some food.

There’s a group of five men in suits at the other end of the bar who all have smiles on their faces and scotch in their glasses. Looks like an after-work celebration that’s winding down. They’re an unremarkable bunch, all black and grey suits with muted ties.

“You should’ve seen them an hour ago. The whole office were in here.” Bill, the barback, leans over the wooden expanse between them. “These are the dregs, there were some lookers before.” 

He must see Aaron’s look of disbelief.

“There was this leggy brunette, seemed to be in charge of the lot. She ordered a nice red and  _ tipped _ .” He sighs and puts his hand on his heart.

Aaron hides his smile behind his pint glass.

Bill looks back at the group who seem to be looking to pay, “She was on the arm of some blonde in a pink suit.” He sighs, “Doesn’t deserve her. He flirted with  _ everything _ when she weren’t lookin.”

Aaron shakes his head at Bill’s dramatics, knowing he’ll have a new passionate imaginary affair by tomorrow.

When they pay their tabs Aaron moves to where they’d been gathered, grabbing a seat so he can order some food. His back is aching worse than ever, and it spikes when he sits. He looks at the wall of spirits, knows that he could fix his problem with them, but he’s got an earlier shift than normal tomorrow, and he’s  _ finally _ gotten to be Mark’s second in command. 

He stands, gritting his teeth at the pull of skin. Once he’s out of the chair it’s quieter, but he doesn’t feel like chancing more time at the pub. He thinks about his fridge and is relatively sure he’s got half a curry left from two nights ago.

He puts his money on the bar, nodding a goodbye at Bill as he shrugs on his coat, pushing it against his back by pulling it tight around him. 

He inhales deeply as he steps outside, already feeling less prickling across his skin.

_ God, I’m tired. _

____________________________________

  
  


There’s something tacky on Aaron’s forehead. He blinks, trying to clear whatever is making his vision red, but he can’t seem to wipe it away fast enough.

His hands are caked in blood.

He’s on his knees, he can feel the pressure of the earth biting into them.

He blinks rapidly, staring at his bare body, covered in blood and muck.

There’s a storm whipping around him, making everything loud and indecipherable.

He tries to focus but he can’t.

_ His back is alight with agony. _

He doesn’t know anything except that it’s the worst pain he’s ever known.

____________________________________

Aaron wakes up screaming. 

The pain is still intense, but it’s so much less than it was in the dream that it’s almost a relief.

His heart is pounding and he’s gasping for breath like a drowned man. His hands are shaking with adrenaline, his skin tacky. He flings out an arm and turns on the light, eyes flaring in pain at the brightness.

_ Sweat. Not blood. It’s not blood. _

He sits up and curls his arms around his knees, trying to inhale slowly, to calm his racing heart.

He glances at the time on his phone and sees he’s still got hours until his alarm.

He tries to will the pain in his back away.

_ It was a dream. You can’t get hurt by your nightmares. _

The aching buzz along his ribs disagrees.

He sits, clutching at his knees for minutes that stretch and pull at his shoulders, feeling like he’s been mauled by his own subconscious. 

Eventually it settles back into a warmth fizzing beneath his skin, and he leans back and is pulled into sleep.

____________________________________

  
  


The blaring of his alarm makes Aaron sit up, aching with exhaustion after two broken nights of sleep in a row. He’s slow to do everything about his routine, blinking blearily at his coffee and wincing at the burn as he gulps it too early.

He’s better by the time he’s driving over to the garage, but his eyes feel dry and cracked at the edges. He has to keep rubbing them to see clearly, and there’s a headache building at the back of his skull.

_ Just what I need. _

He tosses back a few paracetamol on the drive, hoping they’ll keep both of his pains at bay so he can fix the Porsche.

He parks at the garage and is glad to see the light is on, which means Nick’s in. He knocks on the shutter doors, then waits with his hands in his pockets as they slowly raise.

“You here for the whiskey?” Nick’s voice echoes from beneath the door.

“Not my problem.” Aaron ducks down once the door is chest height and walks in, blinking to adjust to the semi-darkness. He looks up at the towering figure of Nick and shrugs, “Just need the brake pads.”

Nick considers him, then breaks into a large grin. “Knew I’d hired you for a reason. I’ll find the box, have a cuppa.” He gestures at the office and moves to the storage room, calling over his shoulder as he goes, “There’s custard creams in the tin.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh, putting a teabag in the cup and pulling a couple of biscuits from the tin. The pressure behind his eyes is loosening already from the pills, and the tea does its work while Nick searches. 

“Porsche 944, right?” He enters, holding a box up.

Aaron swallows his sip and nods, brushing crumbs off his coveralls as he stands.

Nick hands him the box, then narrows his eyes, “You tell my brother that I’ve got nothing that isn’t mine.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, gesturing at his chest, “Until you see messenger service on here I’m staying out of all this.”

That makes Nick smile and wave him off, “Sure.”

Aaron walks away with some biscuits in his hand and a box tucked under his arm.

____________________________________

  
  


“Owner came early to check on the car.” Mark’s voice carries to Aaron’s ears as he comes in the side door to the garage.

Aaron looks at the car and the box in his hand, “Did he say when he’ll be back?”

Mark nods, “Should be here around noon. Was a bit pissy about having to wait.”

“Didn’t you say it’d be late morning?” Aaron puts the box down, shaking his head at entitled customers.

Mark nods, “Apparently in business nine  _ is _ late morning.” He makes a face, “Have it done by eleven if you can, don’t want him to tell me off again.”

Aaron shrugs, knowing it’s a twenty minute fix. He moves to get under the car when he hears Mark’s voice again, “Nick better have sent you here with more’n just a set of brake pads.”

“Yep.” Aaron’s crouched by the wheel well, and he can hear Mark’s triumphant whoop, “Gave me a biscuit and a tea.”

The groan of frustration in response is satisfying.

____________________________________

  
  


At twelve fifteen Aaron loses patience and yells out to Mark, “I’m going to grab lunch. Tell the customer he’s all set.”

Mark’s got his heels up on the desk and a sandwich across his lap. He nods around his mouthful and waves Aaron through the door.

Aaron heads over to the cafe nearby, itching and angry that he’d waited around for nothing. He can feel that he’s got a face like thunder based on how the people on the sidewalk are parting to let him pass.

_ Waste of my time. _

He pushes into the cafe without looking, brushing past a man in a deep blue suit, jostling the coffee in the stranger’s hand and sending a bolt of pain across Aaron’s back.

He doesn’t bother with an apology, even when he can hear the offended voice behind him. He’s tired and hungry, and his back is aching more with each passing minute.

He nearly groans when he sees there’s a short line, but Anaysha is behind the counter, and she nods at him while mouthing “usual?”

He nods back, glad for the kindness. He’s in too much pain to politely wait in line, he just wants to sit and drink his coffee and eat his lunch. He finds a space in the corner where he can put his back to the wall and press it against the chill of the plaster, calming what nerves he can.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes for a moment, letting the room’s chaos wash over him.

Anaysha stops at his table, putting down the massive mug of latte in front of him along with a plate of chips and roast chicken. 

“Thanks.” He may be in a mood, but she’s always remembered his order, and she knows how to put the right amount of espresso to fight the bags under his eyes.

She nods, eyes scanning over him. “You doing alright?”

He nods as he leans in and spears a potato wedge. “Will be once I get this in me.”

She nods and walks away, stopping by other tables to check in as she does. 

Once he’s scraping his plate and sipping the dregs of his latte he feels human again. His back has calmed down, and he’s ready to head back to work. He walks up to the bar, grabbing his wallet and looking at the glass case next to Anaysha expectantly. 

“No brownies today, sorry. A guy came in right before you and bought the lot.” 

Aaron can’t keep the scowl off his face, and she cocks her hip while raising an eyebrow, daring him to complain. “We have slices of chocolate cake.”

There’s so much of his mum in her, it makes him feel warm, so he nods and she boxes up a slice of cake. She even drizzles a little hot chocolate sauce onto the cake.

“You looked like you needed a little sweetening when you came in here, all dark and grumpy eyebrows.”

Aaron draws his hands into his sleeves, cheeks reddening. 

She narrows her eyes at him, and drizzles a bit more. “Maybe a lot of sweetening.”

____________________________________

The Porsche is gone when he returns to the garage. 

He stares at the place it once was, frowning. 

Mark comes out of the office with a brownie in his hand, large bite taken out of it. 

“Came by half an hour ago. Tried to apologize. Left you a brownie.” He gestures at the one in his hand. 

Aaron shakes his head in frustration, “Take it that’s mine?”

Mark nods, taking another massive bite. “Come back on time, get your brownie. Make me change a tire while you’re out and I should be balancing the books? It’s my brownie.”

Aaron sits on the boot of the heap of junk he’s been working on for two days, pulling out the plastic box of cake and the fork Anaysha had packed him. 

“Oy!” Mark shouts, “You just got off break.”

Aaron points at him with the fork, “I’d have a free hand if I had a brownie right now.”

He stabs a large bite and stuffs it into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the older man from across the garage.

The sigh of exasperation echoes around him, but he drowns it out with chocolate.

____________________________________


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron’s knuckles are raw and cut up at the end of the day, far too many tire changes and rusted bolts for his liking. He washes carefully, wincing at the sharp sting as oil slides across his broken skin.

He thinks about his empty fridge, the sad half a curry he’d managed before crashing the night before was the last real food he had.

He pulls off the coveralls and climbs into his car, resigning himself to a Tesco run.

His back starts aching when he’s choosing between cheddars in the dairy aisle, making him lean onto his trolley and inhale deeply through his nose.

He hears a man’s voice one aisle over swear, a bag of something that could be rice hitting the ground, the skitter rush sound of it spilling making Aaron grimace in solidarity.

He can hear the voice grunt in frustration, and Aaron takes note to avoid that aisle.

_ World Foods. Not my style anyway. _

His back continues to scream for the rest of his trip, the pain rising and falling as he shifts and moves through the aisles.

He does the bare minimum shop, promising himself he’ll do more on the weekend on the way back from visiting his mum. 

Once Aaron’s sitting in his car again, head against the headrest, steadily inhaling and exhaling, he’s almost pushed the pain away enough to drive.

He turns his head and sees a Porsche parked not too far from him, and it makes him twist his mouth in distaste before rolling his eyes at himself and reversing.

He slows as he drives past, checking, and is sure it’s the same car. He shakes his head.

_ Prat. _

As he continues away from the shop the seat behind him helps his back to calm, and he momentarily regrets not at least grabbing a few more essentials. Fortunately he’s not averse to beans on toast for dinner.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s on his knees, crouched by a man he doesn’t recognize. The man’s in some sort of uniform, it’s caked in muck and either grey or brown underneath it all.

A stain of red is spreading across his chest, and Aaron’s hands are pressed to the center of it, trying to stop the flow.

The man is pale and gasping, blood at the corners of his mouth, mud coating his face.

Aaron can hear his own voice, broken and begging.

“No! Hold on, medics are on their way.” 

The other man turns his head to look at him, something dark in his stare.

He can feel the way the chest under his hands isn’t rising right, short hitched inhales.

His own hands are red, uniform on his arms unfamiliar except from television. His knees are cold, mud seeping up through his trousers, and his back is in agony.

He forces his attention back to the wound, trying to apply pressure, but the chest isn’t rising or falling any more, and the man’s eyes-

_ green _

-have gone blank, staring up at the grey sky.

Aaron can feel tears running down his cheeks, and a broken sob in his throat.

“We were so close.”

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron wakes up crying, face tight with dried tears. His back hurts, but it’s far less than the aching sense of loss and loneliness Aaron can’t begin to explain.

His hands are dry and clean, but he can still feel the haunting echo of the rough wet wool of the uniform beneath them. He flexes them and twists, noticing his surroundings.

He’s curled up on his couch, television still quietly flashing with images. He frowns trying to remember why he’s not in bed. He’d been on his side watching  _ Top Gear _ reruns.

There’s men on screen in gritty trenches looking pained. Someone seems to be writing a letter in a tunnel.

He groans at himself.

_ Fell asleep during some wartime period drama. _

It’s just gone one, so he pushes himself up and stumbles to his bed, shucking off his jeans before flopping down.

He closes his eyes and can still see the color of the man’s from his dream. It makes his heart spike in pain.

He turns over, pushing his back to the cool sheets, and listens to his breathing, trying to calm himself down.

_ We were so close... _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron wakes up feeling nearly normal. The tingling ache he can’t reach is there, but no more so than most days, and he’s even gotten enough sleep. His shift at the garage isn’t til ten, so he can make himself a bit of a fry up.

He looks into his fridge and sighs at himself. 

_ No eggs. _

He decides to treat himself to something a bit more hearty than the bacon butty he does have the things for. 

He pulls on his layers, deciding on his worn-soft purple hoodie, and tugs on a pair of black trainers.

The short walk to the cafe helps him work up an appetite, the surprising sun making him tilt his head up and smile. It’s one of the rare spring days that’ll bring hoards of people out to picnic, and he’s glad it’s early enough that he can enjoy the walk without dodging families.

He steps in through the door of the caf, nodding a hello to Anaysha as he sticks his hands in his pockets and contemplates the menu.

She brushes floury handprints onto her apron and smiles, “Morning, Aaron. You’re looking better today.”

He shrugs, “Slept well, that’s all.”

She shakes her head, dark eyes laughing, “I think my cake fixed you.” She looks to the case of desserts, “Maybe I should rename it Grump Cake.”

“Rename it Know-it-all, more like.” He returns without any heat.

She points her pen at him. “Ungrateful patrons get no breakfast.” 

He puts up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to keep you in business.”

“Fry up, yeah?” She says, half-laughing at him. 

Aaron nods. “And a tea?” She watches him expectantly, and he clears his throat, “Please?”

She enters in the items to the til, then turns to make him his mug while he fishes out his wallet and taps to pay.

Turning, he finds a seat and table and settles in, pulling out his phone and opening up the browser.

_ Nightmares and back pain connection? _

____________________________________

  
  


Two cups of tea, a plate wiped clean with toast, and ten different searches later, he finds a post someone made on a dream interpretation blog years ago.

Dear Heather,

For the past month I’ve been having dreams where I’m in places I’ve never been, all with this same guy in them. I’ve never seen him before, but he’s so familiar. Each time he’s there something terrible is happening. Either he’s dying, or there’s some explosion. It’s awful. I wake up and my whole back hurts. It’s so bad I’ve woken up my husband with my screams twice. Can you help?

Sleepless in Sydney

Dear Sleepless,

Recurring dreams usually mean there is something in your life you've not acknowledged that is causing stress of some sort. The dream repeats because you have not corrected the problem. This man is probably your body’s personification of the issue. Is there anything you’re currently avoiding? Once you face that head on, I think the man should disappear! Plus, stress can cause serious tension in the mid-back, so your spine could be responding to the problem and the anxiety from the nightmare.

Sweet dreams,

Heather

Aaron frowns, wishing he could remember more of his nightmares.

His phone buzzes in his hand, notification popping down from Adam. 

_ Boy’s night??? _

Aaron squints, thinking. He’s off the next day, so he can afford to let loose a bit, and a distraction would be good.

While he’s thinking he gets a follow up message.

_ Lads lads lads! _

Aaron rolls his eyes and simply sends back a thumbs up.

A few beers might even help him sleep through the night.

____________________________________

  
  


He’s just on the right side of drunk, warm and a little fuzzy at the edges, and willing to laugh at all the jokes Adam makes.

“Mate, look at  _ her _ .” There’s a woman at the bar with dark hair and a button nose. She looks serious in a way that Adam never is, like a night out is a rare treat and not a weekly occurrence. Aaron can tell that letting Adam know his real opinion would not be welcome.

“Just your type.” He murmurs into his beer, letting the sip distract him from the room.

Adam nods, looking smug, bumping his shoulder to Aaron’s. “You know I’d pull her if we weren’t here for bro night.”

Aaron is careful not to roll his eyes, “Absolutely mate.”

He is careful to avoid eye contact while skimming over the crowd, just taking in the music. He takes a long pull from his pint, leaning his shoulder into Adam’s, listening to his chatter about his day.

He frowns in pain, shifting awkwardly, and Adam notices, “Your back?”

He’d been the only person Aaron had ever told before his mum. 

Aaron nods, biting his cheek in pain.

Adam reaches over and scratches his nails across Aaron’s sensitive shoulder blades, bringing him back into the moment and making him wince at his best mate, shaking off his help.

“It’s just been acting up.”

Adam’s eyes soften, his hand goes from scratching to a soothing pat on the shoulder. “Sorry.”

Aaron inhales and nods, sipping his pint. He looks down at the table, feeling the burn ebb away.

“Shit.” Adam’s voice breaks him from his focus on his back.

He turns to his friend, brow raised.

“She left.” Adam points, drink in hand, towards the bar. 

Aaron looks up, skimming over the crowd for the woman’s face. 

Adam sighs heavily, “Saw her heading off with a tall blonde, guess I’m just not her type.”

Aaron taps assuringly on his friend’s knee. “Just as well. Don’t want you abandoning me, not on lads’ night!”

Adam guffaws, slapping Aaron too hard on his shoulder, “Too right!”

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s all twisting and turned around when he gets home. The warm buzz of alcohol in his veins and laughter bubbling up inside him, unfurled from hours with Adam.

He sits heavily onto the mattress, ineffectually tugging at the shirt he’s wearing, feeling hot in all the places he’s wearing too many layers.

_ Stupid compression shirt. _

He finally wriggles out of the layers, the cool of his room hitting exposed skin and making him sigh in relief.

He scoots up the bed while kicking off jeans, pulling his duvet over his chest and throwing a forearm across his eyes.

Every time he shuts his eyes the blackness swirls a bit, making him force his lids apart.

He just wants to fall backwards into the darkness, but knows if he does in this state that he’ll wake up miserable in the morning.

The blackness encloses him again, and he blinks them open.

Red. Everything is red.

He sits up, the red filling his vision washing away with the tears in his eyes.

Green eyes meet his, but the face before him is covered in blood.

He can’t recognize the man, the bare chest before him crimson, layers of darker blood beneath fresh.

The man’s mouth opens, a gasp of recognition, a widening of his eyes at Aaron’s face.

Aaron starts forward, reaching out into the space between them, and shakes his head as more blood drips into his eyes.

He blinks again, returning briefly to darkness, and when he opens his eyes again all he sees is the uninspiring beige of his bedroom ceiling.

He hugs his arms around himself, shaking with pain and a  _ need _ he can’t name.

He turns onto his side, gasping for air, feeling the roll of alcohol in his stomach. His skin is clammy under his palms, trembling beneath his fingertips.

He pushes himself out of bed, knowing he can’t sleep in his current state, needing a shower and some toast before he is dragged back into his nightmares.

____________________________________


	4. Chapter 4

Aaron wakes up with a headache and a papery dry mouth. He pushes up too quickly and regrets it, feeling the motion more than he’d like.

He rubs a callused palm over his beard, trying to wake up enough to make himself drink water.

He reaches over to the bedside table, sees three texts in quick succession from Adam.

_ SOOO FUnq m8  
_ _ fund  
_ _ FUN! _

Aaron shakes his head, seeing the timestamp is just before two. He glances at the clock that confirms it’s nine, and any text in reply won’t be seen until Adam rolls out of bed around noon.

He puts the phone back down and stands up, making his way to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. He leans against the counter, letting it press a line across his lower back, and blinks himself awake.

He can’t shake the image of the man from his dream. He tries to remember anything apart from green eyes and blood.

_ So much blood. _

There was something so familiar in his eyes. Like they  _ knew _ Aaron. 

He bites his lip, trying to bring himself back to reality, to shrug off whatever dark stain his brain is inflicting upon him now. 

He turns to the fridge, remembering he’s still only got the bare minimum for breakfast. But buttered toast and bacon cure all hangovers, so he’ll be fine.

He pulls out the pan and turns on the heat, hoping with fuel he can forget the way those eyes searched his face for meaning.

____________________________________

  
  


It’s nearly lunchtime when Aaron climbs into his car to drive to Emmerdale. The roads are busier than he’d like, the M62 backed up frustratingly far.

He turns on the radio in an attempt to distract himself from the annoying weekend traffic, and twists until he finds a station he doesn’t hate.

The sun is warming his arm in the window, and Aaron leans over into it, letting it hit the side of his face, closing his eyes briefly at the bright light. 

The program shifts to some presenter talking about relationships, but the traffic lightens and Aaron doesn’t waste time switching over to something new, instead focusing on weaving between drivers who seem to have all the time in the world.

“I just don’t believe in the idea of love at first sight. How can  _ you _ ?”

“I know it sounds like something out of a film, but I swear when I saw my Tommy, I just knew. It was one of those lightning bolt moments. We were both in the same little pub in the middle of nowhere, and I’d been exhausted all day. I’d driven ten hours, my back was killin’ me, and all I wanted was to get a meal in before I kept on.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, tapping the wheel as he watches for an opening in the flow of cars next to him. His back is starting to itch, making him less willing to wait for the safe distance.

“And he looked up, and it was like everything changed. The pain–”

Aaron reaches out and presses the power button, unwilling to sit through more.

“Idiot.” He huffs out, frowning as he makes the turn to the smaller road to Emmerdale.

____________________________________

  
  


He’s aching by the time he steps out of the car, so he takes the back entrance rather than deal with the chaos of the pub. He’s only there to assure his mum he’s alive, and doesn’t feel like managing the rest of the Dingles.

“Aaron!” She squeals, hugging him tight, pressing her hands to the middle of his back as she has ever since she learned about the itch.

It helps, just like it always does. Aaron doesn’t let it show, she’s always so cocky about her ‘Mother’s Touch’ as she’s named it.

“Hi mum.” He mumbles into her shoulder, letting her embrace relax the tension in his shoulders. 

She steps back, holding him at arms’ length and looking at his face. “You look hungry.”

He smiles, “Starvin’.”

“We’ve got a new chef, makes a great burger.” She gestures to the table where a giant pile of chips surrounds a burger. He walks over, sitting in front of it and immediately taking a massive bite.

Chas sits and smiles at him, even as he swipes grease from his chin. “Name’s Vic. She grew up here, before her mum took her and her brother when she left town.”

Aaron nods while chewing, trying to look interested. 

He must do a good job because she leans in like the gossip she is, “She’s a Sugden. Her dad was Jack. You remember him? He died a few years back.” 

Aaron has another bite in his mouth already so all he can do is shake his head.

“Oh, you remember. Diane’s ex. Horrible man.” 

Aaron narrows his eyes, trying to remember. He swallows thickly, “Tall? Always watchin’ me as if I were about to nick something?”

“That’s him.” Chas nods, “Well, since he’s not around anymore his farm got split between his three kids. So, Vic moved back to deal with the sale, and decided to stay.”

“She’s as good as Marlon any day.” Aaron stuffs a chip drenched in vinegar into his mouth. 

Chas laughs, coming around behind him and placing her hand to the center of his back. “You can tell her yourself. She’ll be in all day, and our Cain’s in there. He wants to pick your mind about a car.”

Aaron nods around another mouthful, feeling miles better already.

____________________________________

  
  


Cain already has a table and a pint in front of him when Aaron makes it into the pub. He waves Aaron over, but nods when Aaron tilts his head to the bar.

“Pint please, Charity.” He leans on his elbows, nodding at some regulars.

She begins to pull the pint, “Nice of you to drop by for once.”

He’s tired already of the Dingle guilt trip, and it makes him drum his fingers on the wood and roll his eyes.

“Could always come back, work for Cain.” She looks at him, leaning in, voice low, “Run some things for me.”

He reaches for the glass she’s holding, roughly sloshing a small amount of beer back onto her hand. “Not. Interested.”

He’s saved having to deal with her by a woman coming in, drawing her eye to a paying customer. The woman looks around. She’s striking, Aaron supposes, with severe cheekbones and an air about her like she could buy the ground out from under your feet.

Something in his stomach turns at the sight of her. 

She leans over the bar, all slanted smiles, asking Charity something.

Aaron turns around and goes to sit with Cain, uninterested in the requests of posh women.

“Alright?” His uncle asks gruffly, sipping from his own glass as he nods to Aaron.

Aaron shrugs, noncommittal. “Can’t complain. You?”

As Cain moves to open his mouth a commotion is building up at the bar. A woman in a chef’s jacket is out now, making placating gestures at the woman who’d arrived. Aaron’s not a gossip like some in the village, but he can hear the chef say “He probably just meant he was visiting me later” plain as day.

“That’s a lie and you know it.” The other woman hisses, snatching her purse from the bar and stomping out the door.

Cain grimaces, “Sounds like someone won’t have a happy greeting when he gets home.”

Aaron nods, eyes still on the chef. Vic, his mum had said. He sees her deflate a little, pulling a phone from her pocket, and pressing a button. 

“I’m going on my break.” She tells Charity, phone already to her ear, and heads out the back.

Charity puts her hands up in annoyance but doesn’t move to stop her.

Aaron focuses back on the conversation before him, “Mum said you had a car you want work done on?” 

Cain nods, “Owner thinks it’s a pile of scrap at the moment, but if we can find the parts cheap…” 

He pulls out his phone to show Aaron.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s feeling relaxed and warm, sitting outside facing the pub at one of the picnic tables. He’s leaning back, letting the sun hit his face, table pressing into the middle of his back behind him, when there’s a spike of pain across the line where there’s contact.

He hisses in pain, curling forward and frowning, but the ache does not end with the absence of touch, spreading across his whole back and building in intensity.

Aaron digs his fingertips into the denim over his knees, gritting his teeth in shock. 

_ It had been such a good day. _

There’s a scuffle behind him, making him twist his head so he can make out the shape of a man in his periphery, leaning against the other table heavily. Aaron can hear him breathing hard.

He stands quickly, not wanting to let some drunk see him in his current state, and bites back a groan of pain.

The man behind him sounds like he’s going to be sick.

Aaron pushes through the door, walking quickly through the pub. Chas sees his face and frowns, dropping her rag and moving to meet him in the back room.

He sits down heavily, stomach rolling from the pain. 

“Aaron, love.” There’s so much fear in her voice.

He shakes off the worry. “It’s just a spasm. I feel better already.” 

_ You don’t. _

He tries to keep his voice light. “I’m fine mum, go handle the bar.”

He can hear her dithering behind him, “A man was stumbling drunk outside trying to come in. I’d stop him before he’s sick on your floor if I were you.”

That spurs her into action, “I’ll be right back. You stay here. Don’t drive home til you feel up to it. And don’t leave without at least a goodbye.”

He nods, jaw tight, and shuts his eyes. Green irises appear in his mind immediately. 

For the first time they feel soothing to think about. He inhales shakily, trying to focus on the way the eyes had searched his face for something.

— and the way they had looked at him like he was something to be seen.

____________________________________

  
  


Cold.

It’s freezing, and all he can feel is icy water around him. 

It’s dragging him down, he can feel the way his kicks are doing less each time, chin slipping under the surface for longer, lungs aching more when he fights to the top.

There’s wooden planks on the surface around him, some charred, some splintered.

He can barely make out some of the floating bodies nearby, the remains bloodstained and blackened with fire.

There’s a ship, like something out of  _ Pirates of the Carribean _ , half submerged and sinking fast. One mast still visible, Union Jack at the top.

He searches the wreckage for something, can feel a pull to keep his head above water, to  _ see _ something.

His eyes fall on a sailor’s form, slumped on a plank, blond hair visible even with the soot staining the rest of him.

Aaron watches the man for any sign of life as the waves rise and fall, kicking to try and stay afloat, but feeling himself weaken each time. 

He tries to paddle but realizes there’s something wrong with his shoulder when it flares with pain, making him gasp in a mouthful of salt water.

He slips under again, but fights with everything he has to return to the air. 

When he looks back to where the blonde was, the body has slipped from the plank and is now motionless and facedown in the sea, hair darkening with water.

He feels the last fragment of hope slip from him, and gives in to the pull of the deep.

____________________________________


	5. Chapter 5

Aaron wakes up with his face pressed into a cushion on his mum’s couch, gasping for air, smothered by the fabric.

He shoves the pillow away, sitting up and looking around him. He can tell he’s only been out for an hour or so, the light still bright out the window, his stomach not panging with hunger. 

His back aches all over, but he can manage it. It’s like a sunburn, pulling on his skin, not the hot knife of pain from the other morning. 

But he’s not alright. He feels hopeless, like he’s lost something precious.

A flash of blonde hair against the water makes his eyes prick at the edges with tears.

He blinks repeatedly, unwilling to cry over a man from his dreams. 

“Oh, love, you’re up!” Chas startles him.

He twists, keeping any wince from his face, and shrugs. “Guess I just needed a kip.”

She walks over and smacks a kiss onto the top of his head, running a hand silently across his shoulders while he squirms away.

He can’t help but notice that it soothes the pain, but not the aching sense of loss.

“Did you save your floor from being covered in sick?” He asks.

Chas’s sharp laugh makes even Aaron smile, “That was Vic’s brother, Robert. He’d driven into town to make it up to her after she had to deal with his girl of the month. Apparently ate something dodgy on the way.”

“Vic took him for a walk, you could hear her scolding him the whole way down the lane.” The smile is evident in Chas’s voice.

Aaron winces, feeling bad for the man.

“Serves him right, telling her he’s with his sister but being nowhere to be seen. That one’s playing away.”

Aaron nods idly, mind stuck on the creeping sadness inside him.

“You think you’ll stay for dinner?” 

Aaron considers the offer, running his teeth across his bottom lip before shaking his head, “I’m meant to do the shop for the week, and I’m still knackered.”

Chas moves to perch on the arm of the sofa, and squeezes his shoulder in a sideways hug. “My boy, all grown up, got his own life.”

Aaron can feel the faint blush on his cheeks, “Mum. I’m twenty five.”

She squeezes tighter.

____________________________________

  
  


After the visit home, Aaron’s back is quiet for days. He goes to work, gets home, and goes out for drinks with Adam and a few other mates. He tries to go out one night on his own, but can’t find anyone who makes his pulse thrum with excitement, so he heads home early and watches the second half of  _ Die Hard _ because it’s on.

His dreams are unremarkable, no images popping up behind his lids when he closes them, no waking up gasping or screaming. No dead bodies littering old battle grounds, or shaking voices begging someone to stay with him.

The only thing is each night, right as he falls asleep, he’s somewhere new and empty. A rolling prairie, an icy tundra, a barren salt flat. He’s alone, the wind is still, and the horizon circles endlessly around him.

There’s no sign of animals or even any clouds. He’s always barefoot, but his feet don’t burn or freeze with the changing scenery.

He’s just alone. 

Achingly. 

Painfully. 

Unbearably.

Alone.

And then he wakes up, back unsettlingly quiet, rolls over, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is just wrapping up an oil change when Mark leans out of the office, phone held away from his ear.

“Aaron, Porsche from last week: any issue with the battery?” He winces at the voice on the other end of the line.

Aaron frowns, thinking about the tests he’d done, “Not that I saw.”

Mark rubs a hand across his face, “Yes sir. I hear you.” He looks back at Aaron, “Well, it broke down a few miles up North from the city center.”

Aaron groans, knowing where this is leading. “I’ll go. I’ll bring some jumper cables with me, and bring it back here to replace.”

He turns and can hear Mark’s assurances behind him as he grabs a tool bag just in case it’s not a flat battery.

“Text me the address. Tell him I’m leaving now.” He calls to Mark, who nods.

“Absolutely. Free of charge.” Mark says to the owner.

Aaron frowns.

_ Weren’t my fault his battery died. Was working just fine last week. _

His phone pings, and he pulls up the directions. He’s got thirty minutes to calm down so he doesn’t scare off the business.

“Right.” He mumbles to himself, tapping on the wheel and pulling out.

____________________________________

  
  


He can see the car from well off. It’s pulled to the side of the small two-lane road, and he can’t make out the owner behind the lifted bonnet.

He pulls up close, reaching over to grab his tools, and the awkward twist and heavy lift makes his lower back scream for a moment. He winces and moves to open the door, feeling how the flare spreads across his ribcage and punches a grunt from him.

He wants to lean against his car, wants to clench his fists in pain, but there’s no escaping the eyes of the owner, and he seems like the type to report in to Mark that Aaron was unprofessional.

Or worse, leave an annoying review on their website making Nick sit Aaron down and look serious while discussing manners.

Again.

He straightens his shoulders, trying to let the pain fuel his steps rather than cripple him.

The owner’s door opens, Aaron can hear him stepping out onto the gravel by the road. He keeps his eyes down, convincing himself to take another step, to keep moving.

“Well you certainly took your time.” The voice is tight and low, and it makes Aaron’s eyes flick up to take in the man.

Aaron shoves the bag of tools to the ground, head flicking to glare at the man.

He’s tall, and he wears a deep grey suit like he was born to it. His collar is undone, and the hint of skin there makes something hitch in Aaron’s throat. His eyes catch there, unmoving, until the man shifts.

It draws Aaron’s gaze to his face, the way his jaw is clenched tight, his cheeks pale, mouth downturned.

Aaron meets his eyes, ready to bite back sneering insults in favor of customer service.

There’s no mistaking the color in those irises.

His world stops turning. He feels like he might be flung off the surface from the impact of those eyes,

He’s  _ sure _ the feeling is mutual, until the man says with a sneer, “Sometime today?”

Aaron starts, returning to the moment, seeing the harsh brows above the green, the way the lip comes up at once side in a smirk, the upwards tilt of the chin.

He balls his hands into furious fists, stuffs them in his pockets, and grits out, “On it.”

The man doesn’t move out of his way, and the light brush of elbows makes Aaron’s whole being scream in pain.

He leans over the engine, bracing himself on the bonnet, trying to cover his gasp of pain by checking the connections to be sure nothing has come loose before he jumps the battery. 

“I checked that already. Used to be a mech—” his voice stops suddenly, and Aaron looks over his shoulder just in time to see the man waver, eyes rolling back as he crumples.

Aaron reaches out and catches him unthinkingly, gritty hands catching grey fabric, leaving streaky handprints. He manages, barely, to keep the man from braining himself on the bumper, and sinks to his knees under their combined weight.

_ Shit. _

The arm he’s got underneath the man’s shoulders is straining and surprisingly warm, like the skin underneath is feverish.

He brings his hand up to the man’s throat, pressing fingers to a pulse point he knows to look for from health class and  _ Casualty _ . It’s there, vibrant and steady underneath his fingers. He leaves fingerprints of oil, stark against the pale freckled neck.

He searches the face before him for what to do, shifting the body he’s cradling, trying to rearrange so he can grab his phone and call 999.

He leans back against the bumper, not wanting to just dump the man onto the gravel, and hisses as the cool metal feels icy even through the four layers he has on. 

His back is red hot. There’s no pain to it, just a stifling heat that makes him shift ineffectually against the car. 

_ Not now. _

He closes his eyes for a moment, and his vision goes red. All he can see is a blood covered face, green eyes staring at him stark against the crimson surrounding it. 

He opens his eyes, feeling the panic building inside his chest, and looks down at the man who is practically in his lap.

The long lashes flutter, and he suddenly doesn’t want this stranger to catch them like this, to read into Aaron’s intentions.

He heaves the man up, freeing his legs, and places him back down on the road. 

He undoes his coveralls and unzips his hoodie, balling it up to protect the back of the man’s head from the stones.

When he straightens the pain is back again, biting at the edges of his consciousness, worse than ever. The man’s face twists in pain at Aaron’s feet.

He sits down heavily on the earth next to the man, pulls out his phone, and dials, digging his fingertips into his thigh to try and center himself, try and drown out the cacophony of pain shooting through him.

The echoing voice of the operator is the last thing he hears before losing consciousness.

____________________________________

  
  


He’s in a dry valley, sandy stone around him, rocky formations jutting out of the walls. He can hear his own heavy breathing, the drumming beat of his pulse in his ears.

There’s something strange about how he’s standing, like he’s leaning against something, but he can’t feel it. 

_ They say the Gods are angry. _

A voice in his head that isn’t his.

The sky above is in turmoil, thunderous clouds swirling darkly, spewing bolts of lightning down in a way Aaron’s never seen. The sky is bright with their flashes, but there’s no thunderclaps.

He can feel his hair stand on end right before he’s struck, a searing scream of pain traveling down his spine, tearing a scream from his diaphragm. He’s thrown down onto his knees, retching in pain, fingers gripping the dry earth.

He can hear something behind him, choking breaths and moans.

Blood is dripping from his back, down his shoulders and staining the dirt below him. It’s matting in his hair and sticking on his lashes.

_ I have to get to him. _

He shoves himself up, unable to balance, trying to find a crouching position so he can stay vertical.

There’s a man curled on the ground, back a mess of blood, hands pressed into the earth, groaning in pain. 

He doesn’t know the man, but he knows he needs to help him. He calls out to himself for help.

_ Why aren’t you answering anymore? _

He stumbles over, slamming onto his knees, feeling the stone crunch into his kneecaps.

Aaron reaches out, turning him over. 

He can’t see the man’s face clearly, there’s just so much blood.

But the eyes are kind and green, and he  _ knows _ them. 

_ Who are you? Where is us? _

The wind is picking up around them, storm clouds moving unnaturally low, nearly touching the rocks.

“I’ll find you.” He can barely choke out, dust and blood and wind shoving the words back down his throat. 

The man holds his gaze, even as the clouds reach down to pull at them, “I know.”

Aaron  _ knows _ that voice.

The freezing grasp of the storm cloud surrounds them, blinding them to each other, and all Aaron can hear is the whipping wind until he’s released.

He’s in an unfamiliar landscape, an empty vastness surrounding him.

And he’s alone.

____________________________________


	6. Chapter 6

Aaron comes to when the ambulance drives off. They’re talking to him, but their words sound like he’s underwater as he opens his eyes.

“Sir?” The woman kneeling to his left must see him coming to, “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

“Aaron.” He licks his lips, grimacing at the fact that they’re dusty. “Aaron Dingle.” 

She presses a reassuring palm to his shoulder as he tries to shift, “Don’t move just yet, we have to check you over. Can you tell me what day it is and what you had for breakfast?”

“Thursday.” He frowns, feeling like breakfast was ages ago, “And toast with an egg.” 

She nods, writing on the clipboard next to her. “And can you tell me what happened, Mr. Dingle?” 

He blinks sluggishly, trying to remember anything except for the dream. 

“Mr. Sugden said that he had a severe migraine, thinks he passed out from the pain.” She prompts him.

_ Sugden? _

His gut twists in a strange mix fear and relief, “He’s alright?”

She nods, looking expectantly at him.

His stomach churns, knowing he can’t tell the whole story, “My back’s been acting up all day, and when he fainted I caught ‘im. Must’ve wrenched something pretty bad, because I sat down and could only just manage to get my phone out.” 

He looks down at his hands, knowing his cheeks are reddening, “That’s the last thing I remember.”

She places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “And how’s your back now, scale of one to ten?”

He frowns, trying to focus on the pain, but there’s nothing there but the familiar itch. “Maybe a one?”

She nods, and helps him stand slowly, checking his pain level at every point. 

“You know we still have to bring you in, get you checked out, but I bet you just wrenched something and it relaxed while you were out.” She smiles, patting his forearm.

He nods, thumbing across his eyebrow in embarrassment. “Can I call my boss so he won’t worry?”

“Course. We’ll wait with you.”

“Ta.”

Aaron makes his call. He tells Mark what hospital he’s headed to so that he knows why he’s not coming back for the rest of the day. He gingerly walks over to the Porsche, pulling the key from the ignition, and feeling the familiar zing of pain when he touches the seat.

He glances around the car, sees a laptop bag on the seat, and pulls it out, not wanting it to get taken by a passerby.

A wallet falls out of the pocket, making Aaron roll his eyes and bend over to pick it up. The license tells him the man’s name is Robert Sugden. 

He  _ knows _ that name.

_ Didn’t mum say Jack had sons? _

It’s too much information, an overwhelming idea that the man from the dreams is from Emmerdale. That he isn’t some figment of Aaron’s subconscious, but a  _ real _ man.

_ Later. Think about it later. _

He makes sure to lock both cars up, before pocketing the set and climbing into the back of the ambulance with the paramedic. 

He gestures to the bag on his shoulder, “Didn’t want anyone to nick it.”

She nods at him, “Thoughtful, but be careful with your back.” She reaches behind her and pulls out a cooling pack, handing it to him.

“Thanks…” He glances at her uniform, “Sasha.”

She looks up from the paperwork she’s filling out, and smiles, cheeks rosy. “You’re welcome, Aaron.”

They settle into companionable silence as they drive, and Aaron’s mind slips back to the dream. The nagging sensation of something missing, a gaping hole in his understanding.

He worries his lip, trying to remember more than the fear and the blood and the aching sense of loss.

The only detail he can remember clearly are those eyes.

And he knows who they belong to.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron isn’t much for hospitals. They’ve never been places he feels safe or listened to. Most doctors writing him off as a headcase as soon as they see his scars.

And before that, so many of them thinking he’s just a hyperactive kid, shifting uncomfortably in front of them.

He shrinks in on himself, pulling the shoulder bag closer in spite of the streak of pain the strap leaves across his skin, like a brand.

There’s something new in this ache, though, a heat that fizzles beneath it.

Sasha brings him over to a bed and makes him sit, and then lets the doctor know what his symptoms were and how he’s been since. 

He’s grateful when she steps out so the doctor can pull the curtain shut around the bed and look at the paper in front of her, considering.

“Alright, Aaron, do you mind taking off your shirt and lying face down so I can feel for any potential injuries?” 

Aaron tenses, but nods, knowing it’s best to just get it over with. He pulls the layers over his head, holding them to his chest and turning over before moving them from beneath him. 

The doctor’s hands are cold, even with gloves on. She presses at points in his back, asking him to describe the pain at each. 

He drifts off for a moment while she writes something down, the voice in his head that’s not always his wanting him to shrink away from her touch.

She makes him sit up, lifting his arms this way and that so she can check his mobility.

He hears the snap of a glove being removed behind him, “Well, Aaron, looks like it was a minor muscle strain, and maybe in combination with your diagnosis the pain was amplified by the overactive nerves.” 

He sighs and relaxes slightly, keeping his back to her. 

“You’re all set, although I do think there’s a patient here who’d like to thank you once you’re decent.” There’s a smile in her voice.

He turns his head, shifting awkwardly to grab at his clothes. “He’s alright, then?”

There’s a crinkle of amusement at the corners of her eyes, “Could’ve been much worse, if he’d been out there alone, he could have fallen and hit his head. You did a good thing.”

Aaron colors under the praise, awkwardly shrugging on his compression shirt in an attempt to give himself something to do.

He’s grateful when she steps out, leaving him alone to dress and calm down. He picks up the shoulder bag from the chair by the curtain, allowing the heat of the strap to stretch across his shoulder and cut into his nerves.

He pulls aside the curtain, eyes searching for a nurse who can direct him to Robert.

He sees the paramedic, Sasha, across the lobby. She catches his eye, and waves. “Hiya, you’ve been given the all clear?”

He nods, “Paracetamol and ice if it acts up again.”

“Looking for Mr. Sugden?” She gestures at the bag on his shoulder.

He shrugs in agreement, feeling awkward and exposed.

“Follow me.” She waves him over cheerfully.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron can hear Robert’s voice before he sees him, annoyed with himself that he can already recognize the low rumble, honey-sweet and supple. 

The answering female giggle makes Aaron’s stomach clench in anger.

It also makes his back prickle in pain.

He hears a hiss of pain behind the curtain.

“Sorry, are my hands cold? I can warm them up if you’d like.” The woman’s voice is coy.

Sasha rolls her eyes at Aaron, shaking her head as she opens her mouth, “Mr. Sugden, you’ve got a visitor.”

A hand pulls open the curtain, revealing a blushing nurse and Robert in a hospital gown.

Aaron swallows thickly, feeling the burning heat across his back. 

Robert avoids Aaron’s eyes, jaw tense as he focuses on the paramedic before him, gesturing at his state of undress, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up.”

The attending nurse giggles. Aaron’s shoulder blades sear.

Robert stretches out a hand to Sasha, a wolfish smile on his face. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Robert.”

“Hello.” She shakes his hand, face bland, reflecting back none of Robert’s charm. 

“This is the man who caught you,” She turns, gesturing with a smile, “Aaron.”

Robert’s eyes flick towards Aaron, his jaw working, and Aaron feels the heat on his back amplify, notices Robert’s wince of pain, the way he shifts slightly on the bed.

“I suppose thanks are in order.” Robert says, voice a bit strained.

Sasha puts a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, and it shocks him into opening his mouth, wanting to wrench away, to keep her from feeling the way his back is an inferno. He settles on shrugging.

“Just didn’t want you to brain yourself on your bumper.” He mumbles. 

Robert’s eyes track between Aaron and Sasha, assessing. “Well, then both me  _ and _ my car thank you.”

A set of alerts startles them all, and the nurse frowns at her beeper, gasping. 

“I’ve got to—” she hurries off at a run.

Sasha’s radio blares to life as well, and she pulls her hand off Aaron’s shoulder as she responds to the staticky string of numbers.

“Be right out.” 

She nods to Robert, “Glad to see you’re alright.” 

There’s something reluctant in her look as she smiles at Aaron, “Guess I have to go.”

He nods, “Was nice meeting ya.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, then pulls a card from her pocket. “Here’s our ambulance info, if you ever find another damsel in distress on the side of the road.”

He takes the small cream-colored rectangle, smiles at Robert’s huff of annoyance beside them.

“My number’s on the back.” She adds, something hopeful in her voice, “If you ever find yourself in need of a damsel in no distress.”

_ Oh. _

Robert’s breath hitches.

Aaron’s back flares in pain, practically roaring in his mind.

He coughs awkwardly, “Thanks.”

He keeps his eyes on the card as she walks away, trying to concentrate on swallowing down the screaming pain.

“Unprofessional, that.” Robert’s voice breaks in, bitter and biting, and Aaron can’t keep himself from glaring at the hypocrite.

“Didn’t seem to mind when it were that nurse before.” He can’t keep the hiss from his voice.

Robert looks up and when their eyes meet Aaron’s back flares hot again, making his knees buckle slightly, forcing him to brace himself on the chair next to the bed. 

Robert grimaces as well, knuckles white where he grips the sheet making the faint freckles on his hands stand out.

They each pause, inhaling shakily. 

_ It’s now or never. _

“It’s worse again, isn’t it?” Aaron says, trying to keep his voice calm. Trying to fight the rolling heat of his back, the screaming urge to move closer or run away. To make a  _ choice _ .

Robert looks up, green eyes harsh and resistant, his voice biting. “What?”

“The pain.” 

Aaron swallows, waiting for Robert to say  _ something _ . 

“It’s just the migraine coming back.” Robert grits out.

Aaron shakes his head, knowing the lie as soon as it rolls off Robert’s lips. His voice is surer than he feels when he grumbles out, “It’s no migraine.”

Robert pales, looking down.

“I bet you’ve been having dreams.” Aaron forces the sentence from his chest. Wanting so badly for the other man to understand, to  _ know _ .

Robert freezes. 

Aaron waits.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The reply is far too late to be convincing. It makes Aaron’s pulse race, his palms sweat. 

Robert won’t meet his eyes.

Aaron wants to wring his neck, shake him for answers, throw him against a wall and make him say it.

_ We’re both here. We’re in this.  _

He stands there, waiting for the other man to come clean. Wanting something more than unconvincing denial.

Robert straightens, inhaling so his shoulders settle underneath the flimsy paper of the gown, and looks Aaron dead in the eyes. “I sleep like a baby.” 

They remain there for a beat, Aaron shaking in anger, Robert tense and defiant.

“Fine.” Aaron slams the bag down on the bed beside the other man, uncaring of its contents. There’s a thrill in his chest when Robert looks shocked, so he moves closer, face full of fury.

“Stay away from me, Robert.” He pokes a finger into the other man’s sternum, ignores the singing heat that zips through the connection point. Every nerve of his fingertip alight in response to the other man.

His eyes track the movement of Robert’s nervous swallow, the way his tongue moves across his lips. 

He finds he can’t help it.

_ Weak. _

He jolts back, vibrating in anger and  _ want _ . Robert remains frozen in place. 

“I mean it.”

He hurries out, wishing he did. 

____________________________________


	7. Chapter 7

Aaron’s back is aching. It makes him roll his shoulders and stretch fruitlessly. He flexes his hands absently, looking around at the vast emptiness surrounding him.

He’s somewhere hot this time. The sun is bright white, reflecting off the sand, blinding him a little. He reaches up to shade his eyes, feels a soft fringe of hair brush the back of his hand.

He can just make out a small settlement across the sand, blinking as the rays hit his eyes.

He feels clumsy and awkward, like he’s not meant for this climate.

He begins to trudge, and time stretches and contracts in the way it does in dreams, so even though his back is hurting and his feet are aching by the time he reaches the stone wall surrounding the village, he can’t remember much of the walk.

His mouth is paper dry, tongue sticking to the roof.

He feels the burn in his shoulders, the heat from more than the sun baking his back. There’s something new too, an aching pressure at the back of his head, and he runs his hands through the hair there.

It’s far softer than his has ever been. Longer too.

He makes his way around the wall to an opening, back aching more with each step, but knowing he’s on the right path.

There’s a guard of some sort leaning against the gate. He’s in a short tunic, like something out of the Bible, and he has a helmet on his head. 

_ Must be baking inside there. _

He wants to call out, but the pain is back, and somehow Aaron  _ knows _ he has to fight it so he can see for himself what this dream is showing before it wakes him.

He must cry out in pain because the soldier turns.

And Aaron would know that face anywhere.

Because it’s  _ his _ .

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron startles awake, clutching at his head and running his fingers through his hair. It’s thick, and a bit coarse with his curl.

His mind flashes to finer blonde strands.

He groans in frustration.

_ Not again. _

It has been three nights since he’s gotten any meaningful rest; the dreams no longer single experiences, but epic marathons. He’s seen the vast emptiness of the sea and sat in a desert dune with nothing to find, just arid heat and biting sand storms.

He’s seen Robert die four times.

He’ll admit that a small angry piece of him had been vindictively glad for a moment the first time, but seeing the life leave green eyes, the gasp of recognition in them as they meet Aaron’s, had hurt.

He’d gasped himself awake each time, tears on his cheeks.

Worse, he’s felt his own life end twice. The stinging heat of a sword, the impact of a fall. 

The fall had been a slow end. Lying broken in a ravine that looks like nothing Aaron’s ever seen. He’d woken up with an echo in his ears of his name shouted desperately, bouncing off rock faces.

Those dreams he wakes up retching.

But tonight’s is something new. 

_ How much more of this can I take? _

He lets out a wrecked sob. He’s just so  _ tired _ . He wants it all to go away, to let him have a night that isn’t full of this pull of pain and recognition.

He looks over at his phone, taps the screen to check the time. 

It’s not even eleven. He’d collapsed exhausted just past nine, and hadn’t even made it to two hours.

He’d tried the night before to drink himself to sleep, to let the bitter warmth of whisky pull him down. But all it had done was leave him in a worse state when he finally rolled out of bed. 

He needs a distraction, something to keep his mind from slipping back to Robert bloody Sugden and the nightmares. 

He bites his lip, considering.

_ Fuck it. _

He stands, pulling out a pair of black jeans and a white jumper he’s had luck with in the past.

He carefully avoids looking at himself in the mirror, knowing the circles under his eyes are dark, that his eyes look tired and hard.

But the darkness of a club will obscure that enough for his purposes.

He pulls on his shoes and stuffs his wallet into his pocket, grabbing his keys from the hook on the wall.

_ Just need to get out of my head. _

____________________________________

  
  


The place is surprisingly busy for a Sunday night, and Aaron leans against the bar, considering the crowd.

He’s had a shot or two to loosen the set of his shoulders, and now he’s got a beer in his hand as he languidly looks for someone interesting.

There’s a tall bloke at the other end of the bar who keeps flicking his eyes over Aaron’s way. He’s handsome, with broad shoulders and a laugh Aaron can hear over the music. 

_ He’ll do. _

Aaron cocks his head, chin lifting in a challenge. He takes a sip while maintaining eye contact.

The man leans picks up his glass, holding Aaron’s gaze while he does. 

Aaron takes another pull and leans back, letting the jumper pull across his chest.

He likes the cat-like grace of the man as he approaches, the way he holds himself, all coiled energy and strength.

When he’s close enough to hear, Aaron speaks, “Alright?”

The other man hovers even nearer, far taller than Aaron. “I’m Dan.”

“Aaron.” He straightens, bringing him in contact with Dan, feeling the thrill of desire when he doesn’t move back to make room.

Dan looks down at Aaron’s lips, licking his own. “I’m only in town tonight.”

Aaron raises one brow. 

Dan leans in, close enough that Aaron can smell his aftershave, whispering against Aaron’s ear. “My room’s just down the block.” 

Aaron feels the heat spreading across his back, and brings a hand to rest on Dan’s side, glad there’s no mistaking the intent in both their eyes.

“Let’s go, then.” He rumbles.

They don’t talk much on the short walk, so Aaron can enjoy the hum of want under his skin. Tries to shove down the niggling press of exhaustion and the tingling pinpricks of pain along his spine.

Once in the elevator Dan crowds him into a corner, biting at Aaron’s lips and pressing his shoulders back against the cool metal walls. It’s searing, and shoves any thoughts out of Aaron’s mind.

He gives as good as he gets, tugging their hips together, pushing his hands into the other man’s back pockets to keep him there while he tilts his head back.

The quiet ding of the elevator startles them, but they recover well and make their way to a nondescript door, key card’s beep welcome as Dan pulls Aaron inside.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s pulling on his jeans, Dan on his side watching appreciatively, when he notices the ring.

Dan sees him looking at the silver band on his finger, and shrugs. “What he doesn’t know what won’t hurt him.”

Aaron swallows down the twist of guilt he feels. Wonders how he didn’t notice the feel of it on his skin, the press of it when Dan’s hand was wrapped around him.

He pulls on a shoe with more force than necessary, silent.

Dan’s phone buzzes, and he reaches over and looks at the screen. He meets Aaron’s eyes and answers, “Hi, babe.”

Aaron feels sick, yanking on the other shoe as quickly as he can.

_ You could say something. Ruin it all. _

He worries his lip as he shrugs on his jumper, wondering if he should.

“Yeah, just in my room now. Missing you.”

_ That’s not love.  _

“The conference is so  _ dull _ . I had to come up with new ways to entertain myself all day.” Dan smirks across the bed at Aaron.

There’s bile in Aaron’s throat.

_ You don’t know him. You don’t owe him anything. _

That’s that other voice that Aaron refuses to name. The one that sounds too much like someone else for his comfort.

He has a moment where he almost does it. Almost charges over and yells into the phone. But that would give this fuck more weight than it has. Would make it significant in a way it was never meant to be.

All he’d wanted was a distraction.

He leaves quietly, unpleasantly glad Dan’s still on the phone with his husband. 

Aaron leans back and taps the back of his head to the elevator wall, breathing up at the ceiling.

He can still feel the remnants of them on his skin, and all he wants to do is scratch it off.

His back roars in agreement.

____________________________________

  
  


He’s  _ cold _ . The sad concrete walls around him seem to seep the warmth from the air. There’s no windows wherever he is.

He’s walking beside a man in a lab coat. They’re silent, like something significant has happened.

Aaron finds he can’t bring himself to speak.

There’s a door with a window in it before them, capital letters across it, but the man’s opening it before Aaron bothers to read.

The walls are lined with small metal doors. A figure covered in a light blue sheet on a table.

_ A morgue. This is a morgue. _

Aaron’s stomach should be rolling, but his body doesn’t respond. His back feels numb, and his hands are freezing. He stuffs them into his pockets, brushing against the shape he knows is a badge at his hip.

The man in the lab coat moves to the body and pulls back the sheet.

It’s Aaron. 

He’s not surprised.

He knew it even before the sheet moved. Knew down in his bones. Knew from the way the skin on his back had gone dead silent three days ago. Knew from the emptiness inside his chest.

He inhales shakily, trying to look impassive. Schools his face into a considering neutral.

_ Can’t let them see.  _ The whisper of a different voice in his mind.

The examiner is explaining something, but he’s stuck on the familiar face in front of him. The way it’s pale and motionless. The stark blue of bruises around the eye.

_ I told him not to fight. _

The examiner is saying something that he needs to hear, he can tell from the tone, but Aaron doesn’t feel like listening.

He’s dead, afterall. He shouldn’t need to listen anymore.

He licks his lips, turning towards the wall next to him. It’s glass, so people can stand behind it and identify bodies.

For a moment he thinks he sees Robert on the other side of the glass, but he’s shaky and unclear.

It’s only when he shifts and so does Robert that his brain catches up. 

He’s looking at a reflection of himself.

____________________________________


	8. Chapter 8

After the dream, things change— and yet they don’t. Aaron’s still not sleeping, slipping in and out of dreams for hours on end, sometimes himself, sometimes not.

There’s more dreams of lost moments, of  _ them _ together but not quite.

Even Mark has started to notice the way Aaron’s struggling, sneaking worried looks across the garage when Aaron fumbles a tool or bangs into something. 

“Alright, mate?” Mark responds when Aaron knocks his knuckles against a bolt and swears, dropping his wrench.

Aaron sighs, closing his eyes and rubbing a greasy thumb into his temples.

“Just not been sleeping well.” He grits out.

_ Too many dreams filled with death and loneliness. _

_...and something else. _

Mark nods, but his mouth is set in a concerned line. 

They don’t talk about it, Mark just brings him tea more often and lets him go on breaks so he can hunch up on a nearby park bench and try to will away the gnawing exhaustion in his bones.

_ I can’t go on like this. _

There’s this encroaching feeling of aching desperation that Aaron recognizes, the waning remnants of hope for relief.

He pulls out his phone, typing ‘How to sleep without dreams,’ into the search function for what feels like the hundredth time.

The same suggestions pop up: eat well, exercise, meditate. He clicks to the tenth page, grasping at straws, willing to try anything some wholesome lifestyle blogger suggests.

There’s a post by someone called Mindful Madison that he clicks on in desperation. 

Greetings my beautiful Thinkers! 

As you know, I’ve been suffering from dreams recently of a man I’ve never met. At first I thought he must be some sort of guide, maybe someone who could take me through a more meaningful understanding of my Inner Place, but when the dreams turned darker I started reaching out to my other Thinkers and took their advice to try and force him out by practicing lucid dreaming. Unfortunately, as you heard in my last post I had no luck taking control.

And then this past week I dreamed of a cataclysm. A storm, blood, and pain. Just as you probably are doing now I consulted my star and moon signs, but nothing was there...

_ What a load of shit. _

He clicks back to the search page, shaking his head at his own foolishness. 

His phone buzzes at his side, showing a text from Mark across the screen.

_ Headed to lunch in ten. Can you take over? _

Aaron types back his agreement and stands, the empty ache still echoing in his chest. The encroaching darkness on the edges of his mind making him worry his lip between his teeth.

_ I promised mum. _

He inhales shakily, pressing his palms to his eyes, trying to remember what normal felt like.

_ I’ll go home this weekend. _

____________________________________

  
  


He’s in a bed he doesn’t know. The flat around him is dark with early morning. The sheets are soft from expense, not wear.

It’s the first dream that feels uncertain. Like Aaron’s not just supposed to walk through it and see something.

The digital clock on the nightstand blinks five.

Aaron can’t quite make out much, but he can tell he’s not in himself. The lankiness of his limbs and aching headache feeling familiar.

_ Robert. _

There’s the sound of someone else’s breath in the room.

He looks to the sheets next to them, the way they’re draped over someone. Someone who is curved and dainty in a way Aaron could never be.

_ No. _

His heart races.

_ That’s not right. _

He can’t quite make sense of this. There’s never been a dream without both of them before. At least not one with other people in it.

_ Who is she? _

He shifts and feels a prick of metal at his side. It makes him turn and pull out something from under the pillow. A zipper on it had bitten into him.

It’s a hoodie. Soft and well worn. There’s a faint pattern across the shoulders.

He recognizes it immediately. 

It’s his. 

____________________________________

  
  


He’s working on a nightmare of a Nissan, grimacing and wishing the owner had  _ ever _ cleaned the interior, when his back starts to heat.

_ Robert. _

He looks around and immediately feels like an idiot as the garage is empty and, more importantly

_ There’s no way your back can sense a person. _

He leans back down, wanting the day to be done, to collapse into his bed and see nothing but the black of the backs of his own eyelids.

His back flares again, and this time it’s worse.

He grits his teeth and frowns at the engine.

Someone clears their throat by the door.

_ Robert. _

Aaron hates that he expects the other man when he looks up, squinting at the silhouette in the entrance. 

He hates it even more when he’s right.

There’s an uncomfortable silence that Aaron’s unwilling to break. He crosses his arms across his chest, face as blank as he can make it. If Robert has something to say he can very well say it.

Robert walks inside, patterned button-down shoved up to his elbows, hair askew. He’s got a bundle of cloth in one hand and his eyes are wild. He freezes when they’re six feet apart, forcing Aaron to raise an eyebrow.

_ He looks tired. _

He feels the pull of the other man’s presence, wants to step nearer, to give into whatever is there between them. But this stalemate they’re in is Robert’s doing and he won’t break.

“Here.” Robert finally sticks out his hand, offering the ball of dark fabric. 

Aaron frowns in confusion. 

“They gave it to me when I was discharged. Must be yours.” Robert gestures with the ball again, voice tight. 

Aaron looks at the fabric, recognizing it as his hoodie. The one he’d put under Robert’s head when he lay on the ground.

_ The one I saw. _

He steps forward, feeling his back hum with heat and something more.

Robert mirrors his movement, and Aaron’s mind flashes with a moment from last night’s dream.

_ Robert in a suit and a top hat, making Aaron smile across at him. Stepping into the street blindly to move to Aaron. The carriage he didn’t notice. The shriek of a woman. _

He blinks and the memory is gone, but not the sensation of guilt.

“Ta.” Aaron mumbles.

Robert’s breath hitches when Aaron’s hand grabs the jacket, carefully avoiding touching the other man. 

_ Not sure I could stop. _

Aaron pulls back, puts more distance between them.

Robert’s eyes search his face, tension radiating in every fiber of his being. He can’t quite meet Aaron’s eyes, looking into the middle distance to Aaron’s side.

“That it then?” Aaron hears himself say.

Robert looks coiled, torn between action and inaction. 

_ We’ve been here before. _

Aaron takes a small step back.

“In the hospital. I shouldn’t have snapped at you the way I did.” Robert’s voice stops his movement.

Aaron stops, waiting, but when nothing else comes he sighs. “Alright. Whatever.” He moves to turn away, back alight in protest.

“I could have just sent it in the mail.” Robert gestures to the hoodie as if that’s meaningful. “But I— I came here.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to do with that so he turns and considers the man before him. The man whose face he’s seen for weeks whenever he closes his eyes.

_ A dark, narrow street, a sliver of the moon barely lighting the stone pavement. A whispered confession, a tender caress at Aaron’s cheek. “I don’t mean to play with your emotions.” The way he’d barely leaned into the hand. Robert’s broken gasp in his ear. _

The memory forces him to shut his eyes for a second, and when he opens them back up Robert’s closer, and Aaron can feel every ounce of him crying out to close the distance between them.

“So what?” He challenges, shifting so their shoulders are aligned.

Robert steps in closer, the proximity making Aaron look down, clench his fists against the zing of tension between them.

“I think you know.” Robert’s voice is lower, more certain this time.

Aaron looks back up, sees Robert’s eyes drift down to his lips. He almost leans up, almost reaches out, but he’s been brave before, and can’t bring himself to be again. 

“Enlighten me.”

Robert licks his lips, opens his mouth, then hesitates, eyes losing their determination. 

Aaron rolls his eyes, wanting to groan in frustration, and leans away. 

“Don’t.” 

In a flash Robert’s hand is on his cheek, the palm cupping his jawline. 

Aaron can’t keep his eyes from closing briefly at the touch. His back is  _ hot _ , the feeling of Robert’s hands electric. He reaches out and pulls Robert in, bringing their lips together with a hiss of pain at the force of it all.

_ Kissing Robert in the rain the snow at night with the smell of hay of smoke of the sea, a wall at his back, dirt under his knees, the chill of the wind on his skin, burlap, velvet, cotton under his palms. _

He’s hit by so many memories of the lips against his that he doesn’t notice the way he’s been crowded against the door of the Nissan until his lungs are screaming from lack of oxygen and it feels like his back is made of static, sparkling with the pressure against the car.

He breaks contact to suck in air, Robert chasing his lips, the air between them hot with their shared breath. 

He doesn’t dare to open his eyes, to see if Robert felt whatever he just did.

_ Can’t handle it if it’s all in my head. _

“Aaron!” There’s a call from outside. It takes Aaron’s brain a moment to recognize it as Mark, but Robert’s already shoving off him, eyes wide and terrified.

_ We can’t be seen. _

The whisper in his mind is in Robert’s voice, he’s certain of it. Aaron’s back flares.

Robert swipes a shaking hand across his lips, shoulders tight. 

“Robert—” Aaron tries.

The other man stiffens, eyes furious. “Shut. Up.”

Mark steps through the door and his eyes widen, “Hello Mr. Sugden! Hope nothing’s wrong with the car?” He puffs up. “I did the work myself.”

Robert gathers himself and smiles, “Everything’s just fine, I wanted to stop by and return Aaron’s jacket. The hospital seems to have mixed up our things.” 

His smile is blithe and so fake it makes Aaron’s stomach churn.

Mark looks at Aaron, so he lifts the item of clothing that he is shocked to find is still clutched in his hand. 

Mark smiles.

Robert keeps his eyes on Mark, and straightens his collar. “I’m afraid I’m late for a lunch meeting.”

He doesn’t even turn in Aaron’s direction until he’s at the door. “Thank you again.”

Mark nods and waves. “Tell your friends about us!”

Robert’s false bark of laughter sets Aaron’s teeth on edge, “Of course!”

And then he’s gone. 

Aaron is left with the ghost of lips on his and a certainty that it wasn’t the first time.

____________________________________


	9. Chapter 9

Aaron sits at the table in his flat staring at the rings of wet he’s stamping onto it with his glass. 

He left work early after Robert came by, glad that they’d not had much on for the afternoon appointments. 

And since then he’s sat in the same spot and slowly gone through about a third of a bottle of whiskey.

He takes a sip and scrunches up his nose.

_ Not enough to stop the burn. _

He’s been trying to think of anything but Robert. The way he’d felt under Robert’s hands. The way they knew each other, no awkward bump of noses or stumbling to match intensity.

The way Robert’s with him in this.

But there’s a dark little voice that he’s started to listen to as the whiskey silences the parts of his mind that care about things like dinner and shopping and work.

_ He’d never actually said it. _

It pinches something deep inside him. The part that had listened to the doctors, to the whispers of his teachers, to his own father.

_ Maybe it’s all in your head. _

The poisoning blackness of that thought keeps creeping around his brain. Sneaking into the memories and dreams and waving them away.

_ You didn’t dream his face til you’d already met him. _

He tightens his grip on the tumbler, finishing off the glass and shaking his head, trying to dislodge the stain of darkness.

_ I’d seen him before. His eyes. _

He’s certain of that. Right?

_ Green eyes, you’d have fixated on anyone with them. _

Aaron grits his teeth and drums his knuckles against the wood of the table, trying to remember  _ when _ things happened. When he first knew  _ Robert _ . 

_ In the hospital. He lied when he said he didn’t know the dreams. _

His mind flashes back to the way Robert hadn’t made eye contact, had waited too long to deny them.

_ And you’re some expert on Robert’s lying? Could be he was scared of the man who’s accusing him of faking his migraine. It’s not nice to be told a pain isn’t real, Aaron. _

He can feel the bite of those words. The way they worry at his insecurities, like picking scabs off old wounds.

Aaron’s started to tap his foot against the doubt filling every crevice in his brain. He hears echoes of doctors telling his parents that the itch on his back is a cry for attention. That it’s probably manifesting as a response to their divorce.

That there’s nothing to be done because he clearly doesn’t want help.

_ But then why did he come? Why bring me the jacket? Why keep it near him? _

He glances over at the fabric draped on the back of his couch, thrown there when he returned.

_ You don’t know that he did. You’re imagining things again.  _

The inky stain of fear mocks him. He has to move, to stand, to get away from the inky blackness. He pushes up, feeling the swirl of alcohol when he does.

He moves to put the glass in the sink.

_ He kissed me. He knew why we were both there. _

The voice is full of scorn. A shadow of the boys in his life who’d backed away when they heard about him being gay, scared he’d go for them.

_ He probably just noticed you drooling over him, desperate for anything, and came to the garage for that. If he knew what’s going through your head he’d run a mile.  _

The flare of pain in his hand makes him look down. He’s broken the glass, a slash of red across his thumb.

_ You know I’m right. _

He flexes the digit, watching the watery flow trickle down his hand. Grimaces at the focusing pull of pain.

_ You know how to shut me up. _

He’s frozen for a while, trying to drown out the voice with just his willpower, to find the threads of himself that hold him back, but they’re frayed from alcohol and the constant sawing of the dark inside him.

_ It would be so easy. _

His gaze shifts to the glass in the sink. The two neat halves, a crimson fingerprint across one. He’s never seen a glass break right down the middle before. 

He gingerly takes the parts and presses them back together, sees the thin line of the crack almost disappear. 

He feels a quiet hum of warmth at that, and it makes him carefully take the pieces to the bin, avoiding the edges and the slickness of his own blood.

He grabs a paper towel and tightens it around his thumb.

_ Sleep. _

The voice is Robert’s and Aaron doesn’t care if he’s all in his head, the advice is sound. He shrugs his arms up inside the sleeves of his shirt, tucking his wrapped finger into his fist.

He just needs to lie down.

As he makes his way to bed he picks up his hoodie and shrugs it on against the chill of his doubts, wrapping himself up in its warmth.

____________________________________

  
  


The light in the room is the warm amber of a summer morning. There’s little particles of dust floating in the air, illuminated by the sun.

There’s an arm draped over his side, hand flat on his chest, pulling him into the warmth of another body behind him.

He can feel soft exhalations on the back of his neck.

He looks down at the hand that rests on his heart and admires the faint smattering of freckles across the wrist.

The man behind him shifts, pulling Aaron closer, pressing his chest to Aaron’s back, brushing a nose across the nape of his neck.

“Go back to sleep. We’ve hours til work starts.” It’s whispered across the skin of his shoulders.

His eyelids are heavy, and Robert’s sleep-soft voice is gentle.

He drifts back to sleep as a soft kiss is placed on his shoulder. 

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is in the Woolpack, Chas pulling him a pint. He’s finally feeling human after a few nights’ sleep, and even his mum has noticed that he’s looking better.

“Have you met someone? The man of your dreams?” She’s teasing him, but it makes something in him stutter to a halt.

He shakes his head, flicking his eyes down, “Can’t I just be glad to see ya?”

She tilts her head, mouth opening to reply, then looks over his shoulder at someone who’s just come in. 

Aaron’s back heats up and it makes his stomach sink.

“I’ll get Vic.” Chas says to Robert.

Aaron knows he’s tense and awkward, but he makes himself stay still. 

“Cheers, Chas.” Robert’s voice sounds strained. He leans on the bar right next to Aaron.

“What are you doing here?” Robert hisses out the corner of his mouth, not even turning his body towards Aaron. “Are you following me?” 

The accusation makes Aaron put his glass down forcefully, sloshing a bit of foam over the edge and onto his hand. “Get over yourself, Robert. It’s me mum’s pub.”

Robert starts at that, turning his body to Aaron’s, left elbow propped up on the bar.

Aaron keeps his eyes down on the wood before him, trying to ignore the heat of his back, the rising blush on his cheeks at Robert’s closeness.

He takes a sip of his pint.

_ A whispered confession against Aaron’s throat, teeth rasping across the tendon of his neck. Fingers clutching at Robert’s ribcage. His beard scraping across a freckled collarbone. _

He risks a look over at Robert, sees the way his cheeks color and his mouth opens slightly, an almost imperceptible lean towards Aaron. He wonders if the same image is in his mind. 

“Robert!” Vic startles them both with how close she is, making Robert jump back. 

She looks between them, “I see you’ve met Aaron. His mum gave me this job!” She’s all smiles. 

Robert nods, mouth a tight line. “Yep. Just introduced myself.”

Aaron’s stomach rolls. 

_ He didn’t tell her ‘bout the hospital. _

Vic looks at her wrist, “I don’t get off for another hour, but you can wait here, if you’d like?”

Robert smiles indulgently, “That’s fine, Vic.” 

She beams and wipes her hands on her apron before moving off to the kitchen. 

Chas walks over, looking ready to probe more, and Aaron stands. “Bog.”

“Charming as ever.” She responds, shaking her head.

Aaron moves through the swinging door, feeling both an ache that he’s not near Robert and relief that he’s his own man again.

He leans back against the wall, trying to calm himself down. His back is cool against the surface until it flares with heat.

Robert’s there a moment later, pushing the door closed. 

“What do you want?” Aaron throws out.

Robert looks at him, “I came to say sorry.”

Aaron looks at him, jaw set. “Again.”

Robert shrugs, eyes dark, “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Aaron’s body is zinging with Robert’s closeness. But he keeps himself still, anger bubbling up alongside the want. “You don’t want anyone to see me anywhere near you.”

Robert moves closer, making Aaron’s heart spike. “That’s not—”

“You didn’t tell Vic about the hospital.” Aaron steps in, spitting out the fact.

Robert’s face closes off. “It’s none of her business.”

“Don’t want her to know you’re gay more like.” Aaron can’t keep the sneer of his face.

“I’m not  _ gay _ .” Robert spits out. 

Aaron huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m  _ not _ . I’m bi.” Robert hunches a bit, protecting himself. “And she knows. I came out when I was fifteen and we left town.”

Aaron stills at that, considering the man before him.

Robert looks back defiantly, seemingly waiting for judgement. 

Aaron relaxes, shoulders loosening, and shrugs. “Whatever.”

Something sparks in Robert’s eyes, he moves closer, crowds Aaron against the wall. “I  _ am _ sorry.”

Aaron can’t help but tilt back his head in invitation.

_ Tell me. _

“I can’t get you out of my  _ mind _ .” Robert exhales, brushing his nose to Aaron’s.

Aaron surges up, hands coming to Robert’s shoulders, pulling him down, pressing their lips together. 

Robert’s back is  _ hot _ under his fingertips. He moves his hands under Robert’s arms to press palms against heated shoulder blades.

That pulls a groan of pleasure from Robert’s throat, mouth opening under Aaron’s assault, hands scrambling to Aaron’s chest, fingers searching for purchase.

He tastes like coffee and hazelnut.

_ Like smoke and meat. Scotch and chips. Bitter beer and something uniquely Robert. _

He can’t tell how long they kiss, but soon Robert’s rolling against him, hot and eager, and Aaron keens into his mouth.

Eventually Robert pulls back slightly, a sliver of air between them, panting against his lips. “Please tell me you still have a room here.” 

Aaron’s mind rushes back to the reality they’re in, blinking sluggishly. “Umm…”

Robert licks a path across his neck in an echo of Aaron’s dream from the night before. “I’m not having you in a loo.”

_ There’s muffled music, a flimsy stall boxing them in, dark blue lighting illuminating Robert as he looks down at Aaron on his knees before him.  _

That makes Aaron thunk the crown of his head against the wall behind him, gasping with want. 

“Yeah. Upstairs.” His voice is wrecked.

Robert nips at Aaron’s jaw, humming in pleasure at the noise it pulls from him, moving to lick back into his mouth, nails skimming the skin at Aaron’s hips having worked their way under his shirt. Aaron’s hands settle on Robert’s chest, unwilling to pull himself away.

A noise in the hall startles them apart. They stand there for a moment, panting. 

Robert drags his eyes across Aaron’s body. “Now?”

Aaron swallows, nodding. “Yeah. Come on.”

____________________________________


	10. Chapter 10

They clumsily sneak upstairs, somehow avoiding the watchful eyes of Chas, and it is only at the door that Aaron remembers how juvenile the room is, still littered with car posters and football jerseys.

He hopes there’s sheets on the bed.

Robert’s behind him, practically plastered against his back, and it makes Aaron’s nerves sing in pleasure to feel him so close, breath hot and wet on his neck.

Robert must notice him pause because he reaches out and opens the door, teeth scraping against the curve of Aaron’s ear.

That’s enough to spark Aaron to action again, reaching blindly back to grab a handful of fabric and drag Robert in, twisting around while walking and pushing the door shut behind the other man.

And then they’re alone. In the half-light of Aaron’s bedroom.

The air feels different all of a sudden, muffled and still, like a piece of universe that’s been neglected. The space between them is charged, but something makes Aaron stop and just hold Robert’s gaze for a beat.

_ Just us. _

Robert’s eyes are dark, pupils obscuring the green around it. His cheeks are flushed and he’s locked on Aaron like he can’t look anywhere else.

Having his focus makes something trill with pride inside Aaron, making him reach up and drag Robert in, biting at his lower lip, soothing the nip with his tongue. 

Robert’s hands are at his hips immediately, pulling him in so their bodies align, then shifting one hand to the small of Aaron’s back, a brand of touch across the heated skin. His long leg slots between Aaron’s, making Aaron keen into Robert’s mouth, rolling his hips.

Robert walks them towards the bed, and Aaron’s suddenly glad for the cramped size of the room, because in just a few steps there’s the feeling of a mattress behind his calves, and Robert’s hands have made their way under Aaron’s shirt, and are bunching it up.

Aaron breaks the kiss for a moment, allowing Robert to help him shove the layers off, grateful he’s not also in a compression shirt as he gets tangled briefly in just the hoodie and T-shirt.

When he’s free, Robert’s bare chested before him, making Aaron’s palms itch with how much he wants to run them over the revealed freckles.

_ The sound of the faint scratch of a quill across Robert’s skin, lines of ink connecting constellations. _

Instead he sits to work off his shoes, the change of angle prompting Robert to reach out and cup his chin, thumb resting on Aaron’s lower lip.

He can’t keep himself from looking up through dark lashes and lightly running his tongue across the tip of the digit.

That pulls a groan from deep in Robert’s chest, “ _ God _ .”

Aaron smirks, leaning back and reaching for Robert’s belt, “It’s Aaron, actually.”

Robert’s smart reply is cut off by Aaron dragging him closer by his belt loops, leaning back to accommodate the other man moving in, shoes kicked off as he kneels on either side of Aaron’s thighs.

Robert’s lips seek Aaron’s, kisses deep and aching with want.

Aaron levers himself back farther, until Robert has to lean in, arms and legs on either side of Aaron, mouth chasing after his. Aaron’s hands move to the small of Robert’s back, fingertips pushing under his waistband, urging Robert forward.

_ The bite of snow at his back is worth the feeling of Robert’s mouth on his neck, the rut of his hips against Aaron’s.  _

Aaron  _ pulls _ . He won’t settle for half memories, echoes of sensation. Robert collapses against him, surrounding him, filling his senses. The smooth skin against his chest, strong arms and legs at Aaron’s sides, his taste on his lips.

There’s not enough room between them for Robert’s hands to do much more than roughly shove their jeans down, skin finally on skin, hot and frantic.

Aaron hasn’t been this out of control since his early awkward fumbles against a club wall, but Robert makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

“ _ Aaron _ .” His name groaned out against his own lips.

He can’t make himself say anything coherent in return, desperately digging blunt nails into Robert’s back, needing him closer.

_ Robert Robert Robert. _

It’s all he can think, a litany of the other man’s name, of centuries of memories and desires coalescing in the now, hundreds of Aarons needing Robert.

_ Aaron. _

It echoes in his mind, unheard by his ears, a shout of need and knowing. He can  _ feel _ Robert under his skin, a bone-deep bloom of recognition. Zinging and humming along his nerves, glowing golden behind his eyelids.

When he comes it’s blinding in its intensity, his shout muffled by Robert’s mouth, the other man’s mirrored release across his skin.

____________________________________

  
  


When Aaron blinks awake Robert’s not there. The room smells like sex and sweat, but it’s silent and empty apart from Aaron. He listens for footsteps in the hallway outside, or noises in the bathroom, but there’s no hint of movement.

Robert’s shirt and shoes aren’t on the floor, and if it weren’t for his come dried on Aaron’s skin there’d be no sign he was ever there.

_ This can’t have been a one off. _

The thought makes something in him crack. He pulls his jeans back up, tugs his shoes on, and angrily shrugs his top back over his shoulders.

He pulls the door open and listens for a moment, hearing Robert’s muffled voice in the back room. 

_ Not done a runner then. _

He makes his way down, ears pricked for a sign of who Robert’s talking to. 

“Well, I’m dead surprised! Thought she were finished with you with how she left here.” It’s Vic.

_ She. _

Something inky black and leaden spreads across Aaron’s gut. 

Robert laughs, “That was just a misunderstanding. Chrissie forgave me the second she saw the bouquet.”

_ Chrissie. _

The memory of a dream of a woman’s body sleeping in Robert’s bed rises unbidden to Aaron’s mind.

He feels sick. Bile in the back of his throat, hands shaking in his pockets.

“How are you gonna ask?” Vic’s voice is so bright and sparkling that the question feels unmoored from reality.

_ Ask. _

Aaron sits down on the stair behind him heavily. A choke of disbelief caught in his throat.

“I got us reservations at a posh hotel. Plan to make a weekend of it, ask over champagne and strawberries.” Robert boasts.

_ Aaron’s first taste of champagne was off of Robert’s lips. Stolen glass dangling from long fingers. Both of them in proper suits, Aaron’s arm tired from holding a tray for hours. Later Robert held his gaze while he kisses some woman at a dance. Empty promises that she’s no one. The thin gold band that eventually glitters on her finger. _

He puts his head in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“Dead romantic.” Vic’s voice is dreamy and floaty through the door and suddenly Aaron needs to get away. 

He stands, wrenching the door to the pub open, revealing a shocked Chas, hand still in midair to turn the knob.

“Aaron!” She shouts, wide eyed, “You scared the living daylights out of me, what are you doing?”

But he’s already shoved past her, into the pub, strides fast, eyes filling with tears, hands balled into fists.

His car is parked out front and he throws himself inside, blindly pulling out, needing to put as much distance between him and Robert as he can.

He can hear his phone vibrating in the seat behind him, but he ignores it.

It’s only when he’s outside Emmerdale, driving wildly down a quiet road, that he notices his back is freezing cold.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is in an unfamiliar bed.

_ Another dream. I can’t handle this. _

He knows he’s Robert without even looking. Feels it in the way the skin pulls across his jaw, the way his limbs stretch out on the sheets. 

He keeps his eyes shut tight, hoping that this one will be quick. Maybe one filled with endless loneliness.

_ Robert deserves it. _

There’s a slamming on the door. Fists pounded on it.

“Robert!” Aaron hears his own voice. Desperate and broken.

That makes Robert open his eyes and sit up, something tight and angry in his chest. An uncomfortable ache of bruises on his chest. One eye squinted shut, tender.

“Haven’t you ruined enough?” Robert’s body says, Aaron just a passenger.

“ _ Please _ .” There’s a slur of alcohol Aaron’s only heard on recordings of himself from nights out. He must be far gone.

Robert bites the inside of his cheek before rising and crossing to the door, keeping it shut between them. He puts a hand on the surface. His skin is raw and cracked, scabs forming at the knuckles.

“We weren’t some love story, Aaron.” The words feel wrong to say. “We can’t be  _ that _ .”

Fear prickles the skin on the back of Robert’s neck. 

A sob comes through the door, lower down like Aaron’s on his knees. “I  _ know _ . I’m not asking you for that. I’m just saying don’t be with  _ her _ .” 

Aaron desperately wants to reach out, to open the door and soothe himself, but Robert stiffens, a spike of anger and venom inside him.

“I’m not  _ like _ you, Aaron. I have options.”

The sharp intake of breath through the door tells Robert he’s struck home.

“She’s got an impressive dowry. Her father wants me to oversee his factories.” His voice is detached and cold. He steps backwards, putting more space between them. “We’ll be comfortable.”

There’s silence and a sniff.

Robert is frozen, fearful of what Aaron will do.

_ He’s as much to lose as I. _

Then there’s the sound of something pressed softly against the door.

“So that’s goodbye, then.” It’s mumbled, like Aaron’s forehead is on the wood, words spoken to the surface.

Aaron can feel Robert’s whole being ache to open the barrier, to draw them back together.

He steps back again, jaw tight, voice strained. “Yes.”

The steps down the hall make Robert’s injuries feel even more pronounced. 

He waits, and Aaron screams inside him to follow, to fix what he just broke.

Robert stays still, shaking with loathing for himself, for Aaron, for what they did. His mind is all pain and fury, his back an icy expanse. 

Something in him cracks, a fault line across his heart widening to gape, dark and destructive. He strides to the table and grabs the basin for face washing from it, throwing it against the wall with a scream.

____________________________________


	11. Chapter 11

Aaron tugs headphones from his ears, panting from stress and a long run. His adrenaline is coursing, hands shaking. He bends over, palms flat on his thighs, gasps in oxygen desperately.

_ Let’s schedule you in for next week. _

His counselor’s voice echoes in his ears. The call that had prompted his run still with him despite the ache in his legs.

He’d stumbled through a partial explanation. Tried to describe the changes to his back, the intensity and vivid nature of the dreams.

Practically  _ begged _ for a sleep aid.

_ Anything to get through a night without Robert. Anything to stop the dreams. _

Last night it had been him to end it. Too young to know himself, fist connecting with a teenaged Robert’s cheek, the sickening crack of a skull against a wall. Robert bloody and sobbing, curled up in pain.

He’d thrown up from that one, and decided to get help while sitting on the ground, eyes red and sore from tears.

He’d had to tell her about it all. About how easily he’d fallen into bed with Robert, the way he’d lost it when he heard the man’s plans, the drive home he barely remembers. 

He could tell from her tone that she’s concerned about how he’s slipping into past destructive behaviors. But she’d listened patiently, made understanding noises and asked polite questions. 

_ This sounds like an acute reaction to stress, Aaron. Your dreams are a way for your mind to process what’s happening to you. For some reason your subconscious has latched onto Robert as the embodiment of your inner fears: Rejection, death, and love. _

It was that last part that had made him pull on his running gear.

_ You’ve told me before people don’t love you. Not unconditionally, at least, and for some reason your brain has chosen to work through that. This might be the right time for us to start working seriously again. If your back pain is a symptom of your anxiety and depression, and I’m not saying it is, then some of these changes could be another confirmation that your mind is ready to make progress. _

She’d been able to hear his breath speeding up, the way he’d stopped speaking.

_ We don’t have to decide anything now, but let’s pencil you in for next week. _

He’d felt so weak and foolish.

Of  _ course _ he’d been deluding himself. Gotten obsessed. Heard what he wanted to hear. 

Betrayed by his body again, the sensations just bits of his messed up mind filling in the space left by a lack of pain.

So he ran. He ran until he could only feel the ache in his legs, until his mind could only keep track of keeping his lungs in rhythm and his heart beating. Ran until the only thing he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and his gasping breaths.

Ran until all he can manage is to suck in air and keep himself on his feet.

Except... his back is still cold.

None of the heat of the exercise had made a dent in the icy sensation along his spine. His shirt isn’t even wet there, like his back hadn’t even sweat, too chilled to need to.

_ This isn’t just in my head. _

Aaron cancels his appointment. He knows he’ll have to spend a few weeks dodging the counselor’s calls, but he isn’t going in there to be cured for something he’s sure he doesn't have.

He researches. Wishes he’d done better in school so he had any clue where to start.

The local librarian gives him a strange look when he comes in, like he’s going to steal the books off his shelves.

Aaron looks down at himself and privately agrees he could have made a better impression, but the puffy jacket helps him feel less frostbitten.

Even if it does mean every shop owner watches him like a hawk.

Aaron shrugs and makes his way to the computers before he realizes he doesn’t have any clue where to begin.

**Past lives**

The search brings up too many results, making him rub at his temple.

**Dream past lives love**

The sheer number of responses makes Aaron scratch at his jaw, frustrated.

**Dream past lives love back pain**

That lowers his results, and he clicks through the books of spiritual healing and dream interpretation until he comes across an editorial from a medical journal about ten years ago.

_ Evidence of Community Pain?  _

_ Two patients came to my practice independently due to issues stemming from diagnoses for back injuries, and reported very similar symptoms. At one point they were scheduled for consecutive appointments, and both passed out in my waiting room from pain… _

Aaron’s breath catches in his throat, his heart racing.

_...Both experienced temperature shifts which could be measured by a surface thermometer... _

It’s all there. Every symptom he’s experienced on the page.

_...intense shared emotion proximity responses... _

He skims the article, skipping over the tests and diagnostics that had been run on the two patients.

_...In the end it seemed their backs healed over time through proximity to each other. As a scientist I’ve always wondered what happened. Have any other people in the profession experienced anything like this?  _

Aaron doesn’t bother to read the skeptical responses. He’s seen enough.

This has happened before.

____________________________________

  
  


He texts Adam. He needs to talk to someone outside himself. Someone who’s not paid to analyze him.

Adam’s all goofy smiles and pints and crisps.  _ No one _ would pay him to think.

“Mate!” He’s wrapped up in a friendly hug and squeezed the second he’s through the door of the pub. Bill’s on tonight, and he makes eye contact with Aaron over Adam’s shoulder, fondly rolling his eyes.

Aaron slaps a hand amicably on Adam’s back in response.

They post up in a corner, comfortable chairs at their back and a couple of pints and bags of crisps in front of them.

It’s blissfully normal for a moment, Aaron feeling like himself for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s up or do I have to get enough of that in ya for it?” Adam points at the beer in Aaron’s hand.

He can’t stop himself, wanting to preserve the moment of peace, “What makes you think somethin’s up?”

“Haven’t seen you or heard from you in  _ ages _ .” Adam pauses, squinting at him. 

Aaron looks down, studying his hands, not knowing how to start.

“Did you meet someone?” 

Aaron looks up, mouth wide. “What?”

Adam smiles wide, laughing, hand banging on the table. “You did! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Aaron searches his mind for a reasonable explanation. For any sort of way to answer that question at all. 

Adam’s face falls. “Oh shit. Did it end already?”

And Aaron can’t lie, not to Adam. So he nods.

Because Adam’s been there. He saw Aaron’s teenage heart break, so  _ sure _ that the first guy he’d worked up the nerve to kiss had felt the same way; leaning in slowly at a party, shaking with nerves, so happy when Ned had kissed back, tasting like cheap cider and cheaper vodka.

So destroyed when he’d told the whole school that Aaron had come onto him, sneering across the classroom.

_ As if I’d be interested in a chav like that. _

And Adam, just like he did then, reaches an arm over Aaron’s shoulder and pulls him tight to his side.

“Sorry, mate.”

A younger Aaron, confusing platonic and romantic love had leaned in for a kiss. This one just nods, tucks his chin down to his chest, and sips his beer.

“He’s getting married.” 

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

“I didn’t know.” 

His voice breaks a little on the final word.

And Adam doesn’t judge, thankfully. He just nods, “I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

_ Not again _ hangs unspoken between them. 

Adam had picked him up at Greg’s flat, cheeks blotchy red from crying, toothbrush in his pocket. Greg and  _ Thomas _ awkwardly watching from the window.

_ No one chooses me. _

Adam leans back in, hand on Aaron’s shoulder. 

He watches Aaron, clearly searching for the right thing to say. Aaron has always appreciated how open and easy to read his face is.

“Let’s get a few more pints in you, and maybe a curry. I’ll even let you win at darts.”

Aaron sniffs, hand wiping away a tear he hadn’t known he had let slip. “You’ve never won before, why not give it a go tonight?”

“Because, I am a very good friend.” Adam stretches magnanimously.

Aaron punches him gently in the shoulder, feeling warmer in spite of the chill of his back.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is back in Robert’s room. It’s one he recognizes. The one he’s pretty sure Robert shares with Chrissie.

_ You have got to be joking. _

Robert’s alone, bed empty at his side. 

His back is achingly cold, no matter how bundled he is in the duvet. It’s bad enough he’s shivered himself awake.

Aaron doesn’t know how he knows that, but he does.

_ Aaron. _

It’s an echo through Robert’s mind. The heat behind it makes Aaron blush.

There’s flashes of memories of Aaron. It’s unnerving, seeing himself panting beneath Robert, feeling the sensations from the other side.

Robert’s half hard already, just from thinking about them, and Aaron can feel the way his back is warming against the sheets.

He palms himself under the covers, and Aaron doesn’t know how to handle this strange invasive voyeurism.

_ It won’t be enough. It’s never enough. _

That’s clear and echoing too, like Robert is certain.

Like he’s tried before.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s wrapped in layers. He’s doubled up on his shirts beneath the tightly zipped hoodie, the constant chill of his back preventing him from feeling warm.

He’s huddled in his seat at the caf, Anaysha sneaking worried glances at him from behind the counter. It’s annoying enough that he’s turned his chair so the cafe is to his back, a small table and wall in front of him.

He’s not in a mood to be mothered, but the constant frowning of Mark at the garage had forced him out, his normal spots in the park were freezing, and he’d just wanted a hot cup of tea and maybe a cup of soup. 

_ Just need to find out how to get over it. Him. _

Aaron cups his hand around the mug, letting the warmth distract him from the icy bite at his back.

The snippets of research he’s been doing are clanging around in his head, bouncing off surfaces and making his temples ache.

Anaysha has finally cleared the line enough to stop by, a concerned purse to her lips. 

“You sick? You’re even less of a ray of sunshine than usual.”

Aaron can’t keep himself from rolling his eyes, “Ta for that.”

She doesn’t move, waiting for his answer.

_ It’s possible I’m going mad. The other option is I’ve found— _

He clears his throat, fakes a sniffle. “Just the end of a little cold.”

“I’ll pack you up some turmeric and honey tea. My mum always said it helps with warming.” He knows he makes a face because she tuts, “Shut up, it’s good.”

That pulls a fond huff of laughter from him.

“Can’t have my favorite customer infecting everyone else, can I? I’d have to find a  _ new _ mardy mechanic with the palate of a child, and some of them wear  _ colors _ , which would clash with the whole vibe.” She gestures around the mostly quiet shop at the barrage of wall hangings and mismatched chairs.

The smile he’s hiding in his tea makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up.

The ding of the bell at the door draws her attention, and she moves over to the counter. “What can I get you?”

Aaron blames the tea and the friendly chat for the fact that he hadn’t noticed the way the chill had eased.

“One medium Americano.” 

The voice makes Aaron’s stomach dip, balancing on the precipice of fury and something he refuses to examine.

Aaron stands quickly, and is gratified to see the way the man starts at his movement, seemingly as unprepared for Aaron as he was.

He takes in Robert, sees his long sleeved sweater under a puffy body warmer despite the sunny day. Feels the thrill of recognition and victory in his shoulders.

_ That’s confirmed then. It’s not just me.  _

____________________________________


	12. Chapter 12

There’s a sick thrill in seeing Robert fumble awkwardly with his drink at seeing Aaron, the way he shifts and leans in then catches himself, like he isn’t quite in control.

Aaron’s frozen, shaking with what can only be anger.

Robert recovers first, hooking a thumb into his pocket and looking Aaron up and down, smirk on his lips. “Looks like you’re following me again.”

_ Prat. _

That makes Aaron’s blood boil, he steps in, close enough to feel Robert’s presence in front of him on his skin, hissing through clenched teeth, “You don’t care at all, do ya?”

Robert starts, eyes widening at Aaron’s aggression, but doesn’t move away, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Does  _ Chrissie _ know about your little transgressions?” Aaron can’t keep the sneer off his face.

That lands, the facade of easy flirtation falling off Robert’s face.

He can see the shift in Robert, the flare of fury Aaron’s only caught glimpses of in dreams, the hiss of his voice through clenched teeth, “You don’t know what you’re talking about."

Robert shoulders past him, throwing Aaron off balance at the contact. His long strides carry him to the door, making Aaron whip around and follow.

“I know enough.” Aaron’s hot all over from Robert’s touch and his own bubbling rage. “I know what you are.”

Robert doesn’t even look at him as he throws the door open, making Aaron see red as he follows him out into the street.

“Weren’t the first time, was it?” Aaron sneers, suddenly certain of that fact. His voice bounces off the buildings across the way.

Robert spins, looking around them frantically to see if anyone is on the street.

“Bet she thinks you’re  _ perfect _ .” He can’t keep the scorn from his tone. 

Aaron knows, deep down, that there’s also jealousy tinging the edges of his words.

Robert’s fast, and the shove surprises him, Robert’s hands landing firmly on his chest and pushing him hard enough to force Aaron back, “Shut up.”

His consonants are hard and biting, but their impact is nothing to Aaron, the bloom of heat from where Robert’s hands had hit his chest feeling overwhelming.

“Didn’t deny it, though, did ya?” He swipes an arm across his mouth, collecting himself. 

Robert surges forward, hands clutching onto Aaron’s jacket front. Knuckles knocking against Aaron’s sternum, sending lightning bolts of intensity through him.

Robert’s jaw is tensed, giving a grit to his words, “You don’t know me.”

Aaron freezes at that.

_ I do. _

He barks out a bitter laugh, “Know you better than you think, mate.”

That makes Robert redden, shoving them into the shadow of the cafe, obscured by the building from most of the street.

Robert’s arms are shaking, hands still twisted in Aaron’s jacket, eyes drawn to Aaron’s lips.

Aaron licks a path across his own lower lip, sees the way Robert’s lashes flutter as his eyes track the movement. Feels his own body respond to Robert’s closeness, back hot.

“I know you’re cold all the time. I know sometimes your back feels like it’s going to split in two. I know you’re not sleeping.” Aaron keeps his voice is as steady as he can.

Robert’s mouth opens slightly, shock of disbelief slackening his features. 

_ You can’t know that. _ He can hear the thought clear as day.

He moves to let go and Aaron  _ knows _ he’s going to run, so he grabs Robert’s wrists, holds them tight.

Feels the rapid beat of Robert’s pulse under his thumbs.

Robert’s hands clench, Aaron can feel the tendons working under his palms. 

“I didn’t want—” Robert’s voice surprises Aaron, the uncertainty in it keeps Aaron from interrupting.

There’s silence again while Robert searches for words, making Aaron want to slide his hands down Robert’s forearms, skim over the warm jumper, settle with a thumb in the indent at the bend of his elbows. Knows his hands would fit there perfectly.

“I  _ don’t _ want—”

Robert’s voice is so lost it makes something in Aaron gentle in response.

“I know you dream about me. About us.” He says, voice soft.

Robert’s eyes lock with Aaron’s, the color draining from his cheeks.

He’s vibrating under Aaron’s palms, eyes wide with fear, mouth still slightly open.

_ One more push. _

“I dream about you.” Aaron almost whispers.

The street is empty, but the openness of the confession makes Aaron’s skin prickle in fear.

They’re frozen like that for a beat, Robert’s eyes never leaving Aaron’s, searching for something in them.

He must see what he needs, because Robert nods almost imperceptibly, exhaling shakily, fingers loosening from Aaron’s hoodie, but not pulling away. Aaron eases his grip, but keeps his hands on the freckled wrists.

Robert looks down at where he’s being held, shoulders drooping as he gives in.

“You’re all I can think about.” It’s barely audible, but Aaron feels the words echo through his heart, ringing in his ears as if they were shouted. His heart races, pulse drumming in his ears.

Robert’s body shifts closer, faces separated by inches, “I can’t sleep without  _ seeing _ you.”

He angles his head slightly, words caressing Aaron’s lips.

“And the nights when I don’t it’s almost worse.”

Aaron nods in understanding. The endless emptiness.

“I just need—” Robert stops again, then leans in and finally closes the gap between them.

Aaron’s world feels like it disappears around them, narrowing down to just the points of contact between them, and he lets it.

Lets his universe become Robert’s lips, and the heat of the thin skin under Aaron’s grasp, delicately wrapped around wrist bones. 

He feels weak, knows he’s letting himself get lost in the other man again, in the way he makes every atom in Aaron feel like it’s made of fire.

Robert’s phone chirping in his pocket makes them break apart, Aaron landing back on earth violently, feeling his stomach sink when Robert twists out of his grasp, looking panicky and grabbing for his mobile.

It’s clear from his face that it’s Chrissie.

_ Don’t. _ The word is caught in Aaron’s throat, a desperate plea he doesn’t want Robert to hear.

But Robert’s texting something back, and Aaron holds his tongue, because he just kissed a man he knew wasn’t his.

It makes something deep in his gut twist in disgust.

“This was a mistake.” He feels the worlds tumble out of his mouth. 

Robert looks up, brows knit in concern, “What?”

“We shouldn’t.  _ You _ can’t.” Aaron steps back, shaking his head.

Robert stares at him, shock evident on his face, “What?”

Aaron looks down, scratching a hand across the back of his head, “We can’t do this. You’re with  _ her _ .”

He looks up, taking in the way Robert’s fingers are frozen on the screen.

Robert shoves his phone back into his pocket and surges forward, hands on either side of Aaron’s face, palms rasping across his beard, slamming Aaron’s back to the stone of the building behind him.

“We can’t stop.” Robert presses his lips to Aaron’s mouth, mumbling through kisses, “It’s been  _ torture _ . I need you.”

_ Then leave her, _ Aaron screams at him, mouth falling open under the assault, hands digging into the ridiculous puff of the body warmer at Robert’s sides.  _ Leave her and choose me. _

Either Robert can’t hear or he won’t respond, just keeps pressing kisses to Aaron’s skin, overwhelming his senses, and making Aaron drag him closer, wanting to touch every inch of him, press their bodies together.

_ I want you. _

Robert pulls back groaning, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s temple, “Give me time. I’ll figure something out. I’ll get away.”

Aaron’s lips are swollen. His breath is heavy, and all he wants is to lick at the long tendon on Robert’s neck.

Robert looks so desperate and wanting, like Aaron’s what he needs.

And Aaron’s  _ tired _ of feeling like pure shit all the time.

So he nods, mouth a tight line.

Robert pulls his phone back out, exiting his chat with Chrissie and opening a new contact. “Here.”

He doesn’t move back, hand on the wall behind Aaron, gentle kisses at Aaron’s neck as Aaron tries to type in his number.

“I’ll call you.” Robert promises against his Adam’s apple, as Aaron’s eyes drift shut and he knows Robert can feel his groan under his lips from the self-satisfied smirk when he steps back.

And Aaron nods, swallowing down the protest as Robert walks away. Pulling his sleeves back over his hands, feeling the chill creep back in around him.

_ What am I doing? _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron hears his phone buzz on the workbench when he’s underneath a Prius grumbling about the wiring he has to avoid so he doesn’t wreck the whole car.

He shivers, back chilled despite the warmth of earlier.

He can’t exactly roll out just to deal with his phone, but he hears it buzz again some time later when he’s wiping down his hands, and he reaches over to tap the screen.

_ Here’s my number back. _

Followed by the more recent:

_ Are you at work? _

He stares at the words, feeling want and guilt intertwined.

His hand vibrates.  _ I’ve got a free hour. _

The want wins out at that, making him thumb across his eyebrow as he types back.  _ I’m here. _

He swears his back warms from the words across his screen. 

_ On my way. _

He looks up at Mark, who’s been moving papers around for the last hour as Aaron works. “I can close up if you need to get on.”

Mark smiles, eagerly pushing back in his rolling chair. “You’re a saint.”

That makes Aaron feel worse, so he grumbles bitterly, waving his boss off. “Yeah yeah. Go home.”

Mark’s grin could light up Blackpool. When he’s gone the garage feels dark and empty. 

Aaron locks up the rolling door and quickly wipes down his hands and face, not knowing just how close Robert works.

_ He’s a hostler, keeping track of men’s horses and brushing them down as the night falls. Robert stops in with thrown out bread from the baker, sharing the half-burnt loaf with Aaron in a haystack. The prickle of hay at Aaron’s back and taste of bitter flour on his tongue melting away as Robert’s hands roam his face with callused fingertips. _

He snaps back to himself when the door opens, Robert there, lit from behind by the sun, hair almost aglow.

The sight makes Aaron swallow, his world once again narrowing to the blonde.

“You alone?” Robert’s voice is a deep growl as he looks into the garage nervously.

“Nah, the whole of ManU is in there, waiting to shout ‘Surprise.’” Aaron flicks his head at the darkness behind him.

Robert huffs out a breath, in amusement or annoyance Aaron can’t tell. It warms something in him, either way.

Robert steps in, sighing as he gets near, arms loosening as he stops hugging them to his body,

_ Like he’s come in from the cold. _

“You just gonna stand there all day?” Aaron raises a brow, daring Robert to come closer.

There’s a pause where Robert has the audacity to look affronted.

“You texted me, mate.” Aaron challenges.

“ _ Not _ your mate.” Robert snarls, lunging forward to cage Aaron in the flimsy doorway of the office, face close enough to feel his heat against Aaron’s cheeks.

It makes Aaron’s skin flush, pupils blown wide.

Robert reaches out, his hands rest on Aaron’s upper arms, thumbs rubbing against the fabric, but the touch pushing warmth deep into Aaron’s bones.

Aaron melts, hands landing on Robert’s hips, shoulders relaxing as he goes pliant. 

Robert’s cheek almost brushes his as he leans in to purr into Aaron’s ear, “Cold?”

Aaron kind of hates him.

He can’t help the sigh of content he lets out when Robert shifts his palms to Aaron’s ribs, the breadth of them warming his core, the way he shivers as the chill finally seeps out of his back, his whole body on fire with Robert’s touch.

Robert’s voice is cocky and teasing, “Guess I’ll have to warm you up.” 

The line is so terrible that Aaron has to dig his fingers into the short hair at Robert’s nape and drag him down into a kiss just to shut him up.

____________________________________


	13. Chapter 13

Aaron’s still panting when Robert stands and begins to redress with a quiet concentration that screams ‘leave me alone.’

He studies the set of Robert’s shoulders, the way he smooths hands over his dress shirt, buttoning it with precision.

_ What am I to him? _

Aaron stays silent. Not yet knowing what to say, senses still overwhelmed by Robert.

Robert turns, posture softening when he sees Aaron still propped up on his elbows in the cramped backseat of the Prius.

He opens his mouth, then closes it quickly, instead moving back to Aaron and leaning down.

Aaron sits up, meeting him for a kiss, threading his grip into Robert’s tie, keeping him close.

“I have to go home.” 

_ To Chrissie  _ floats unsaid in the air between them.

Aaron meets his eyes, not letting go of the tie, trying to make up his own mind, to fight down the jealousy.

“Alright.” He releases the silk, refusing to pout.

_ You knew what you were getting into this time, _ sneers his ever-present inner critic.

Robert looks conflicted for a moment, hovering close before shaking his head and stepping back.

Aaron scratches a lazy path across his chest, feeling a zing of victory when Robert’s eyes track his movement.

“I’ll text you, yeah?” Robert says, looking as if he’s at a loss.

Aaron closes his eyes for a moment, tries to imagine pushing Robert away again, closing himself off, and it makes him ache. He nods, refusing to look back up.

He can hear Robert pick up his coat, and it makes his stomach roll. He clenches his fists.

_ What did this even mean? _

The pause in Robert’s movements makes Aaron open his eyes and look up. Robert’s still watching him.

Aaron doesn’t look away, challenging Robert to say  _ something _ .

He isn’t surprised when he gets nothing but silence in return.

When Robert leaves Aaron follows his lead, hiking jeans back over his hips and looking around for his shirt, layering carefully, unwilling to trust the longevity of the warmth on his back.

He stares back into the car, biting the inside of his cheek as he finds a cloth and wipes down the interior, removing any trace of what just happened.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron blinks his eyes open. He knows this place. It’s a field near Emmerdale with a small stone wall that protects it from the wind. He’d brought a boy here once, faking sick with him mum and meeting up with James behind the pub. 

He’d lost his virginity on an old picnic blanket with a view of a herd of sheep.

It’s different now, something echoey and strange about it, like it doesn’t quite match his memories.

There’s a blanket on the ground, but it’s soft under his hands, not gritty with dirt.

He frowns down at the floral pattern under his palms, perplexed.

“Aaron?” He jerks around, Robert is standing behind him, looking just the same as he had this morning.

Aaron can’t keep the frown of confusion off his face, opening his mouth to speak until Robert interrupts him, “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” Aaron stands, brushing his hands on his jeans.

Robert crosses his arms in front of him, brow furrowed. “This isn’t how it happened.”

Aaron blinks, trying to parse what he’s been told. 

“I was here, yeah? But with Katie.” 

A deep part of Aaron’s mind hisses in jealousy.

Robert scrubs his hand over his face, “This isn’t…”

Aaron’s eyes widen, he looks at the ground around the blanket. A bottle of cheap wine and a packet of condoms lie next to each other in the grass.

He looks up, eyes wide with disbelief, and can’t help himself: he laughs. Sits down on the stupid blanket and laughs while Robert stands there, looking like he’s worried Aaron’s lost it.

Maybe he has.

When Aaron finally calms down he looks up at the other man framed by the blue of the sky.

“I brought my first lad here. Didn’t have as pretty a blanket.” He shrugs, letting Robert in on the absurdity.

Robert blinks and sits next to him, wrists balanced on bent knees.

They stare out at the sheep and the scenery around them blurs.

They’re in an alley, and Aaron feels suddenly tense, his knees knowing the ground here. Wonders if he looked if he could see a splotch where he’d spit.

Robert frowns and looks at the brick around them, searching for answers. He puts a hand to the wall, looking at the street they’re hidden from, and grimaces.

“I think I got mugged here once.” He holds a hand to his side as if he remembers a kick to the ribs. “Too many scotches at a pub down the road, I was an easy target.”

He turns to Aaron expectantly.

Aaron coughs, “This is where I gave my first...” he gestures at the ground awkwardly.

The eyeroll he receives is biting, Robert leaning against the wall and sighing in mock frustration, a quirk of amusement on his lips. 

“You could fuck me in a car but you can’t say blowjob?”

Aaron splutters, hating how he can feel his cheeks turning red, waving his hands awkwardly as the world smudges around them, finally settling for crossing his arms with a huff.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron wakes up slowly, blinking at a half-lit room, shocked at how rested he feels. He stretches languidly, reveling in how quiet his back is.

He spends a moment staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the places he’d been last night. A pizza place he’d brought a disastrous date to where Robert had once worked, the pub he’d pulled pints in for a year where Robert had spent a stag do dressed as Sherlock Holmes too drunk to remember his own name, the bar Aaron had lied his way into as a kid and gaped at a couple of men kissing where Robert had drowned his first big heartbreak.

So many interwoven places, always offset by a few years distance. 

It had been rough at first, stumbling into familiarity they had no reason to have, but eventually the tension broke, giving them an ease they’d never had in person.

They’d talked, watching these half-remembered rooms swirl around them, laughing at nightmarish moments from their histories.

Aaron half smiles to himself. It had been... nice.

He reaches to his phone to check the time and sees a message from Robert. 

_ Tonight? I can get away. _

Aaron’s heart races, the nagging hum of guilt merely background noise to the flush of warmth he feels at Robert’s eagerness. The bubbles of anticipation already fizzing in his chest.

The all consuming want is what makes him pause before he responds.

He closes his eyes, remembering the feel of Robert around him, the way he’d been so responsive to touch, leaning into it, pulling Aaron down for more.

“ _ Fuck, Aaron. _ ” Robert’s voice breathy and wanton.

There’d been a moment, when he had his lips to Robert’s pulse point, Robert’s heels at the back of his thighs, where he’d been sure of everything.

Sure they needed each other. 

_ But if Robert felt that too, wouldn’t he leave her? _

He remembers the light in Robert’s eyes as he laughed.

_ Maybe he just needs more time. _

He swallows down his doubts, throat tight. His fingers move across the screen.  _ I’m on Loom St. _

It’s only once he clicks send that he looks around and realizes he’ll need to change the sheets.

____________________________________

  
  


After his early message Robert tortures Aaron with silence. Aaron knows he’s at work, but there’s nothing from him at all. It makes Aaron pace, eyes scanning his flat for something to do.

The voice of doubt and shame is amplified now.

_ He’s probably gone off you, decided to run back to Chrissie. Forget all about the dirty little mechanic. _

At eight he’s had it.

_ You’ve got thirty minutes or I’m done. _

He doesn’t know why he sends it, he has no claim to Robert’s time, but he doesn’t care.

The speed of the reply is impressive.  _ Leaving now. On my way. _

It’s less than twenty when Aaron’s buzzing Robert up.

Robert doesn’t even look around the room when Aaron opens the door, surging forward, knocking Aaron a step back as he presses their lips together.

Aaron’s hands clutch into the suit jacket on his back, matching the ferocity of Robert’s kisses eagerly.

Robert kicks the door shut, spinning them around so Aaron’s got his back against it, leaning in to whisper into his ear, pressing wet kisses to his pulse. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Funny way of showing it.” Aaron grumbles even as he pulls and untucks Robert’s shirt from his trousers, needing skin under his palms.

Robert shuts him up with a kiss, harsh and deep, hands already on Aaron’s belt, and if he hadn’t been on edge all day Aaron would slow them down, linger a bit on gentler touches.

But as it is all he wants is the reality of Robert’s hands, long fingers encircling Aaron, palm hot against his length.

He groans into Robert’s mouth, hands scratching blindly at Robert’s sides, trying to ground himself from the assault on his senses.

Robert pulls back, deftly moving to his knees, looking up through long lashes, hand still for a moment.

Aaron holds his gaze, memorizing the way Robert looks, not comparing it to the rush of memories of similar moments, of other versions of them, because this one is real and  _ now _ . 

Robert, infuriating as always, hovers just near enough that Aaron can feel his exhales on his skin, wants to thrust forward, but Robert’s forearm is braced across his hips, other hand squeezing slightly as a warning. Aaron moves a hand to thread through Robert’s hair instead.

The heat of Robert’s tongue makes Aaron close his eyes, free hand banging against the door behind him, thighs shaking with the effort to stay still. He’s lost to it, clutching a bit too rough at the short blonde strands in his hand.

Robert’s hum echoes through him, and everything in Aaron narrows down to the feeling of Robert’s mouth, wet heat and just the right amount of suction. 

There’s a ringing inside Aaron, a confirmation that this is where he’s supposed to be.

He’s so close already, and that would be embarrassing if Robert wasn’t fucking made for this, throat working around Aaron.

“Stop.” He grits out, needing a moment, not wanting to cum leaning against his front door like something quick and shameful when there’s a bed in the next room.

Robert pulls back, dragging a whine from deep in Aaron’s chest even though he asked for it, the room feeling cold where he’s wet from Robert’s spit. He looks down in confusion, at Robert’s lips, pink and slightly swollen, his pupils dark but eyes full of emotions Aaron can’t quite make himself examine.

“Bedroom.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the doorway behind Robert.

Robert stands shakily, licking his lips and leaning in to kiss Aaron, letting him taste himself on Robert’s tongue.

He pulls back, breathing heavily, before walking backwards, pulling Aaron along.

“Mattress sounds good. May not be some rank alley, but your tile is hell on the knees.”

____________________________________

  
  


They’re lying face to face, in the darkness of Aaron’s room, when everything catches up to him. And Aaron sits up, curling his knees nearer to his chest, staring into the middle distance of his wall.

He turns to face Robert, who props himself up on his elbows in a silent question.

“Where does she think you are?”

Robert’s face instantly shutters, “Some work event.”

Aaron nods, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“She doesn’t need to know everything about me.” Robert sounds like a petulant child.

Aaron glares at him, gesturing between their bodies, trying for reasonable. “This is a pretty big thing, Robert.”

He can practically see the defenses Robert is building around him.

“This hasn’t got anything to do with her.” Robert frowns, “Whatever we are, it’s… outside of Chrissie and me.”

Aaron’s mouth opens in shock. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Robert’s shoulders are tense, jaw set.

“And I’m supposed to be alright with that?” Aaron can feel the twist of shame in his belly.

Robert pushes the sheets off his body, feet hitting the floor angrily. “I  _ chose _ Chrissie. I didn’t choose this.” 

He waves at Aaron and the words feel harsh and cold.

He waits for Robert to take them back, to make amends, but nothing comes.

There’s a loaded silence in the room as Robert stands by the bed, shaking and nude.

“You mean that, don’t you?” Aaron says, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Robert can’t meet his eyes, crossing arms across a bare chest.

Aaron can feel the anger building up inside him, rage hissing and fizzing along his veins.

“I didn’t exactly sign up for this either, Robert.” He hisses. “Can’t say you’re who I would have chosen to have  _ this _ with either.”

Robert has the gall to look offended at that, so Aaron marches on while detangling from the sheet. “You’re a disaster. You can’t make up your mind, so you  _ cheat _ .”

The color drains from Robert’s cheeks, and Aaron knows he’s hit a nerve.

“You forget, Robert.” He advances, “I’ve  _ seen _ you. I know you.” 

“I’ve seen every time you come find me in the back rooms and alleys, while someone else is on your arm in public.” He’s right in Robert’s space when he spits out, “Maybe all this is the universe warning me off you.”

Robert shoves him, but Aaron stands his ground, feeling the sneer on his features. “Poor Chrissie doesn’t know what she’s getting into with Robert Sugden. Can’t keep it in his pants long enough for the wedding bells to ring. Bet he makes his mum proud.”

When Robert’s punch lands he’s not surprised.

____________________________________


	14. Chapter 14

Aaron sits in the harsh light of his bathroom, elbows braced on his knees, skin still aching from the heat of the shower’s spray. 

He’s not sorry he said what he did.

He blinks, cheek pulling in a responding ache.

Aaron leans over, catching his reflection’s eyes. The mottled bruise across his cheekbone isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.

The steam of the room is cooling on his skin, and it’s bringing the harsh reality of the ice of his back back into focus.

_ I can’t be with him just because he keeps me from feeling miserable. _

Aaron bites his lip harshly. Shivering despite the heat still in his skin, the aching spread of frost across his shoulders making goose pimples sprinkle across his shoulders and down his arms. 

_ It wasn’t always like this. It’s probably reacting to him still. It’ll settle down again. _

He squeezes his eyes shut, hating how quickly Robert’s face comes into view. He hadn’t said anything after the punch, just put on his clothes and left as quick as he could, slamming the door with a finality that had resonated in Aaron’s bones.

Aaron had stepped into the bathroom immediately, washed the smell and feel of them off his skin until he was pink and raw.

_ He’d never choose me. He said as much. _

He stares down at his nails, blunt and rough, calluses on his fingers.

_ I’ll move on. I have to. _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron  _ knows _ this room. It’s one of the counselors his dad had brought him to, back when he’d given a toss about Aaron.

The woman across from him was nice. She’d given him a set of crayons.

He can tell he’s a child by the way he tucks into the chair, sliding down on the plastic when he curls his legs up and puts a foot on the seat.

His back feels like his shirt is made of fire ants, consuming his flesh with their pincers.

The cuff at the back of his head is familiar too, “Sit up. Stop squirming. She asked you a question.”

The dread Aaron feels seeing his father fills his gut.

“Soz.” He mumbles, his voice his own, but sounding far higher in his ears.

The counselor’s face is full of pity, which makes him want to squirm more, so he sits on his hands.

“How’s the back today, Aaron?” Her voice is soft and oddly fake, like she’d been taught it in school.

_ It’s on fire. Sometimes I can’t breathe for it. I want to sleep on sandpaper until it all comes off. _

“Fine.” He stares down at the table before him. 

The sharp jab of his father’s fingers into his side makes him straighten, “I mean, it’s better since I started taking the pills, miss.”

_ They make the world feel like it’s grey, so I flush them. He sneaks them into my breakfast but I’ve stopped drinking the cereal milk. _

“He still gets antsy most days, I don’t think it’s managing all his symptoms yet.” He can feel the creak of his father’s false smile.

Her eyes narrow a bit, tracking Aaron’s uncomfortable shift in his seat. “You’ve been on the same dose for a few months now, I think we should up it since you’ve been tolerating it so well.”

He wants to open his mouth to scream, biting the inside of his cheek instead so he won’t cry.

His father’s pinch at his side will bruise, he knows it. He doesn’t flinch, knows it’ll just be seen as more ansty energy.

“Yes miss.” He tucks his chin in tighter to his chest.

The woman’s voice and his fathers mumble above him, feeling like water rushing over him as he blinks back tears.

_ Even when I took them it never stopped itching, just made the world stop feeling like anything. _

He squeezes his eyes shut because he knows how this dream ends. He’s dropped off at twelve with a bag on one shoulder and salt drying on his cheeks, collar bone digging into the strap across it. His dad drives away before his mum even comes out of the pub, looking shocked to see him there.

____________________________________

  
  


The only gift the universe gives him is that after the familiar nightmare he sleeps dreamlessly, waking up with no memories of anything, but feeling no more rested than when he’d fallen into bed.

He moves around like a zombie, ignoring the puffing across his cheek, knowing he should put ice on it, but not wanting to.

He layers on hoodies, trying to ignore the chill in his bones.

Aaron’s mum calls him when he’s puttering around the flat, scrounging up something for breakfast. He stares at her name on the screen, pushing down the wave of shame he feels. Not needing her take on his choices.

He presses ignore, sending her to voicemail.

It’s only once he’s sitting at his table, bowl of cereal in front of him, that he presses play.

“Guess I missed you, love. I was just calling to ask if you’re stopping by this weekend. I’ve got someone you  _ have _ to meet!”

Aaron groans, cradling his head in his hands.

“He’s handsome, a  _ doctor _ , and he’s set to do a rotation at Manchester Royal Infirmary next month!”

Her chatter continues but he’s already zoned out, putting the phone down on the table and sipping the milk in his bowl.

He doesn’t want to get set up by his mum. Doesn’t need her help.

He can manage himself.

His stomach sinks as he thinks about what Chas would say about Robert. She’d been so scornful of his last few men, practically crowing when she’d been right and they’d turned out to be wastes of time.

_ I sure know how to pick them. _

He thinks of freckles dusting a cheekbone. 

He plunks his spoon down into the now empty bowl, frowning at its clatter.

_ I didn’t even get a choice this time. _

He feels a roll of nausea at the thought, hating that the little agency he has was taken away by whatever this has been.

Aaron picks up his phone angrily, typing out a text with his thumb.  _ Sorry, was eating. Ill be in on sunday. _

He sets the mobile down, tinging rhythmically with his knuckle against the bowl, then picks it back up.  _ u can tell mr. perfect one drink. _

The speed at which he receives approximately one hundred happy emojis makes him shake his head.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s posted up against the bar waiting on his mum to join him for lunch, begrudgingly listening to one of Charity’s patented ‘big plans’ with deaf ears when Robert walks in. 

He can’t help the way his eyes immediately latch on to the other man, hating the catch he feels in his chest when Robert’s eyes slide away from him carelessly, mouth tight.

_ Like I’m not even here. _

Hates the way his insides twist when he sees the woman he has at his side, large hand resting at the small of her back. She’s tucked in against him, chin high, looking at Robert like he’s given her the world.

And judging by the bit of sparkle on her finger Aaron supposes he has.

He can’t even hear Charity anymore, just the rushing in his ears and his own heartbeat.

_ You knew this was coming. _

He tries to swallow down the swell of bile he can feel in his throat, tries to look anywhere but at the man who is so steadily avoiding his gaze.

He can hear Vic’s squeal of happiness distantly, Chrissie’s voice describing the romantic weekend she and Robert had.

_ Poor cow doesn’t even know where he was the night before he whisked her away. _

“Mum’ll be so excited for yas!” Cuts into Aaron’s reality, making him fumble slightly with his glass.

Robert’s voice is tight in a way Aaron  _ knows _ is a lacquer over something else, “We’ll have to rush the wedding a bit, but Chrissie doesn’t mind.”

Chrissie is almost purring against Robert, petting at his chest, “Not at all, I know you want her to see us before…”

There’s a poignant silence that ends when Vic clears her throat, “We’ve got time enough to make it special, don’t we?”

Aaron feels his chest contract in guilt he won’t stop to identify.

_ Whatever it is, it isn’t my problem. _

He shoves himself back off the wood, ignoring Charity’s exasperated squawks as he heads to the exit, needing distance, trying to clamp down on the sickness he feels in his gut, the way his whole body is aching to shake Robert.

_ I don’t even like him that much. _

He thinks back to their shared dream, the ache of laughter in his sides as he hears the other man’s stories, the way Robert’s face had been bright and happy, open about his past failings.

Can’t help but pause to take in the tightness of Robert’s shoulders, the set of his jaw and flint in his eyes.

_ He doesn’t look happy,  _ a tiny dissenting voice inside him says, making him shake his head to dislodge the thought.

He shoulders past the happy couple, carefully avoiding touching Robert, keeping himself as small as possible. When the cool air hits his face he sucks in a breath and sits at one of the wooden benches outside, collecting himself.

He pulls out his phone, brings up Chas’s number,  _ got called in on an emergency tow. _

He swallows down the guilt of lying to his mum, pulling his free arm around his chilled body.  _ Give the doc my number. _

He shuts his phone off as he climbs into his car, needing the miles of distance between him and Robert.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron recognizes the building around him as a barn.

_ Not again. Not now. _

He crouches down in desperation, hoping  _ whatever _ this is will spare him, just for a night.

Nothing changes. He can still smell the earthy sweetness of hay in the air. The room is quiet except for a soft sound behind the hay bales.

Aaron refuses to investigate. He stays still, clenching his eyes shut.

When he sneaks one open he’s unhappy to find he’s moved. In front of him is a young boy, maybe eight or nine, freckles across the bridge of his nose, chin resting on his sleeve. His jumper is wet, as if he’s been wiping his face.

The boy lets out a small sniffle, seemingly unaware of Aaron’s presence. His eyes are red rimmed, but an all-too-familiar green.

Aaron closes his eyes, but the scene is the same behind his lids.

_ Sod off, universe. _

He turns, but the world shifts around him, leaving him watching whatever it is his brain needs him to see.

“Robert!” The gruff voice calling sounds angry, and Aaron’s heart clenches when the boy in front of him stops breathing, fingers clenched into the hay.

Aaron sits down on the bale next to him.

There are more calls, two voices, one man one woman, all searching for the boy, who tucks himself even deeper between two bales, ducking down every time he hears his name, shaking.

The barn door opens, kicking up dust and hay, and Aaron holds his breath along with the boy by his hip.

The woman’s voice calls out, “Robert, if you’re in here, I’m not angry.”

Aaron can see Robert’s shoulders loosen a bit, the shakes calming.

“I promise. I still love you. I’m your mum.” Her voice is soothing, and it makes something in Aaron warm.

Robert has unfolded a bit, but his eyes remain full of tears.

“Sarah, stop coddling the boy!” The second voice echoes out, and Aaron watches Robert ball back up like a snail, pulling as tight to the hay as he can.

The two voices argue indistinguishably by the door, but all of Aaron’s attention is on the nails digging into freckled hands, the shaking fear emanating from the boy in front of him. The tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes.

A small sob escapes, and the voices stop.

“Jack, don’t—” Sarah’s voice is pleading.

The heavy steps of boots come around the hay, and Aaron sees a man he recognizes as Jack Sugden.

He reaches out to do— something, but his hands pass through the figure before him uselessly.

The man’s massive hands grab roughly at Robert’s forearm, dragging him roughly, a squeak of protest is all that Robert lets out.

“Such a disappointment.” It’s gritted out through bared teeth, but it cuts into Aaron and Robert alike, the latter going limp as he’s pulled.

Aaron’s chest aches, wanting to help the boy, but he turns back to the spot where he’d been before.

Robert sits there, an adult now, but looking just as frightened, balled up on himself, holding his knees, staring at his father’s back.

____________________________________


	15. Chapter 15

Aaron is at the pub watching a match he’s barely invested in when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he swipes open to see the message.  _ Hi Aaron. Your mum gave me your number, I’m Alex Mason. I’ll be looking for a flat in Manchester this weekend, any chance you’d be available to show me around? I’ll buy you a drink as a thank you. _

Aaron can’t help but roll his eyes at the message, leaving it open on the table in front of him while he looks back up just as there’s a goal.

“Get in!” Bill cheers from behind the bar, and Aaron lifts his pint to him in a silent celebration.

His phone buzzes again, and Aaron sees Mark’s name pop up.  _ Woman called asking for you, said she liked the work you did on her fiance’s car and wants a consult on hers. I told her you’d be in tomorrow.  _

Aaron sends back a  _ k  _ in response, knowing it ties his boss up in knots the way he texts.

He puts his pint down and frowns at Alex’s message again. The full sentences and proper punctuation. The way he wrote it all in one go instead of breaking it into multiple texts. Something about it makes him itch, feeling judged already.

He scrubs a hand through the short hairs at the sides of his head roughly.

_ I promised mum. _

He feels guilty having run out on her the other day, so he finally begins a text back, forcing himself to make at least the basic attempt at niceness.  _ im free friday. theres some old factory flats near the hospital, text me when youre done with the tours and i can meet you around there. _

He doesn’t bother fixing his mistakes. If Alex cares, then Aaron’s not interested.

Bill wanders over with a packet of crisps and another pint for Aaron, “Alright?”

Aaron nods, keeping his eyes on the screen, phone face down on the table. 

He can’t keep himself from wincing when it buzzes, pulling a face when he sees the reply. 

_ Sounds great! I really appreciate you taking time out of your day like that. Looking forward to meeting you, your mum’s been talking you up all week. :) _

“Who’s that then?” Bill leans over, into Aaron’s space.

Aaron stuffs his hands and phone into his jacket pockets, groaning, “Some guy my mum wants me to take out.” He leans his head back, looking at the ceiling. 

Bill laughs, “Not really your type, then?”

Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t have a type, mate.” 

Robert’s face comes unbidden to his mind, making Aaron’s stomach swoop as he scrambles for justification of his discomfort.

“I mean, he’s a  _ doctor _ .” Aaron can’t keep the scorn from his voice. “Probably dead boring and always busy.”

Bill hums in agreement, eyes flicking up to the screen, then back down to Aaron, “Never know, maybe he’s one of them that wants a bit of rough?” 

He’s joking, but Aaron’s heart clenches, making him take a deep swig from his pint and stare at the game.

“Could always look him up on Facebook or some owt?” Bill’s voice cuts in, “See what he’s like before you go out with him?”

Aaron frowns up at the other man, “What?”

The look he receives is scathing, “You know, check out his social media? See what he looks like? Everyone does it.” 

Aaron blinks, furrowing his brow, then pulls out his phone. 

Bills clap on his shoulder is fond, “There ya go!” 

Aaron doesn’t even notice as his friend walks away, biting his lip and typing in ‘Alex Mason’ into the search bar.

He’s met with a professional picture, taken at some hospital, of a blandly handsome man with a kind smile. Alex’s profile is full of pictures with his friends and family, and it looks like he is in a weekly book group where they read classic literature and drink wine. 

He groans inwardly when he sees it’s called Sense and Sipability. 

Aaron’s knee bounces below the table, his thumb scrolling through Alex’s page, looking for anything that they share beyond an interest in blokes.

_ We have nothing in common. _

_ And you think you and Robert do? _ The mocking voice needles him.  _ You don’t even know what he does. _

_ At least he didn’t bore me to tears,  _ he bites back, looking at the profile under his fingertip _. _

He clicks the search bar again, feeling a strange thrill as he types ‘Robert Sugden.’

Aaron supposes he shouldn’t be shocked they have friends in common, Emmerdale being the size that it is. Apparently Robert works at an advertising firm.

The picture is of a younger Robert, with longer hair swept across his forehead, and a slight tinge of sunburn on his shoulders and the bridge of his nose. He’s laughing on a beach, can in his hand, shorts hanging just below hipbones, lazy ease in his stance. 

He hates how his mouth goes dry, eyes drinking in every detail, starved for Robert. He’s only dreamed of Robert twice this week, once in the farm, the other in a car.

_ Robert was young, maybe fourteen, head against the glass of the window, back smarting from something. Sarah, a hand on his knee, young girl asleep in the back seat, luggage filling every occupied space. Sarah tight jawed and furious, staring straight ahead, the car silent except for Robert’s quiet sniffles. _

_ Sarah’s voice making Robert start and almost knock his head against the door, her grip squeezing lightly on his bony knee, “You’ll fall in love one day, and I can’t wait to meet them.”  _

Aaron’s teeth snag on a rough patch of his lower lip, and he worries at it, staring at the photo on the small screen.

_ Stop.  _ Aaron tells himself, putting the phone down.  _ He doesn’t want you. Not really. _

His cheeks are hot, his back still the low chill it’s been since Robert walked out. 

Aaron looks over at the bar, Bill leaning over it and flirting with a woman, the beads at the end of her braids making a soft sound as she throws back her head in laughter before she sips her cocktail coyly.

_You know you’ll look eventually. Get it over with._ _Everyone does it._

Robert’s been tagged in two posts recently, one of some muffins in a basket. Victoria Sugden’s baking prowess on display. The caption ‘baked a thank you to the staff at Hotten General for being so kind’ below it. 

There’s a comment beneath by Rachel Tate, “Thinking of you all in this time. Give her a hug from me.”

Aaron stares at that, before clicking back, feeling strangely guilty for snooping.

The second post is a selfie posted by a Chrissie White, hand posed artfully around a champagne flute, glittering diamond on her finger ‘He put a ring on it!’

Even as Aaron fights down the wave of disgust when he sees the post, he can’t help but notice that it doesn’t look like Robert’s even been on the page to comment on the well wishes they’re receiving. All the reactions and comments are Chrissie’s.

Robert’s not even in the post.

He tries not to examine the spark of  _ something  _ in his chest at that.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is trying to make a burger but the drippings in the pan are smoking while he’s pretty sure the center is still under-done for his taste. 

His phone rings, and he wants to ignore it, but the picture that comes up is Chas and he’s fobbed her off more times than he’d like to admit recently.

“Hi mum.” He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, waving the smoke away as he scrapes the meat from the pan.

“Aaron! I hear you’re going out with the handsome doctor.” She sounds so pleased with herself, and Aaron has to pause to keep his annoyance in check.

“It’s one drink, we’re not exactly sending out ‘Save the Dates.’” He rolls his eyes and pulls out the ketchup.

Her pleased hum grates on his nerves, “You never know, love! He might be the one.”

_ He’s not. _

“Don’t hold your breath.” He mumbles, thinking about the three unanswered texts he has from Alex today.

“Just try, please, for me? I just want you to be happy.” Her voice is sad, and it makes him feel like an awful son.

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I know, mum. I know. I just don’t want you to get all invested in Alex.”

_ We aren’t the right fit.  _

“But he’s so  _ good _ , Aaron! He brought Vic flowers the other day to cheer her up.” 

He hates how she never listens to him, bites back his snarky retort of ‘Then she can date him’ and inhales through his nose, pinching the bridge of it while trying not to grit his teeth. “I know. You sent me a picture.”

He searches for anyplace he can redirect the conversation, “Any Dingle events coming up?”

And she’s off, mapping out the calendar of birthdays and christenings and vow renewals while Aaron grunts in the right places and eats his burger.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s in Robert’s skin again, he can feel the other man’s heart hammering in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

Robert’s trying to suck in air, palms clammy where he’s clenching them tight, pressing bony knuckles into thigh muscle. 

His vision is narrowing, a rushing in his ears, Aaron can’t quite make sense of anything that’s happening.

Suddenly Aaron recognizes this feeling. 

Robert is having a panic attack.

He doesn’t know what to do, trapped inside the other man’s body, so he looks around at the room. All he can see is a bathroom around him, he tries to get Robert’s arm to move, to turn the water on and splash it onto his face.

But he’s not in charge.

Robert’s chest is starting to burn, lungs aching for oxygen as his gasps get shallower. The pounding in his temples feels amplified, a deafening boom of his pulse.

It’s overwhelming, the encroaching doom, the feeling of certainty that Aaron can’t change anything about this moment.

He can’t just sit through this. He has to do  _ something _ .

Aaron does the only thing he can think, he tries to breathe  _ for _ Robert. Inhales as slowly and steadily as he can, counting the whole time. 

One. Two. Three. 

He loses his grip on his own air when Robert coughs, gasping wetly.

Aaron starts again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

He holds his breath, and feels Robert’s chest tighten.

Aaron exhales steadily, feeling the shivers of exertion tremble over Robert’s skin, the way his panicked sweat is chilling on his arms and back.

He inhales again.

Holds.

Exhales.

_ Once he’d been drowning, lungs gasping in lakewater desperately, scrambling for air. Robert had pulled him up and out, pressing a mouth to his and filling his chest with his exhalation. The very air Aaron breathed was Robert. _

It’s overwhelming to get hit by a memory in the moment, and Aaron stops focusing, making Robert’s breathe hitch awkwardly, a sob bubbling out from Robert’s throat.

Aaron’s aware of the dried tears on Robert’s cheeks, the tight stretch of the skin where they dried and left salt.

When Robert can breathe again Aaron looks around more, noticing modern touches that tell him where ever he is its present day. The area around the sink is covered in products, two electric toothbrushes nestled in their chargers.

Aaron can feel Robert’s stomach lurch uncomfortably when they stare at the shared domesticity of this room.

Robert reaches out for a phone, turning the screen up, and Aaron can see the most recent texts from Vic illuminated too brightly for the dark of the room.  _ They’re saying she’s got weeks, not months. _

_ What are we going to do, Robert? _

He watches as Robert types out a reply, the screen going blurry from unshed tears that Robert swipes away with the back of his hand.

_ We’ll get her the best doctors, Vic. Get a second opinion. _

Aaron can feel the horrible swell of grief in Robert’s chest.

_ And if they say she’s not got long, then we make every moment count. I’ll tell Chrissie we have to move things up. _

He makes eye contact with Robert in the mirror, knowing the other man can’t see him, looking at his wan face illuminated from below by a phone.

Aaron can feel the encroaching panic again, the way it’s welling up inside every nook and cranny of Robert’s body.

The buzz in their hand brings Robert’s attention back down,  _ Mum loves a wedding.  _

The world gets blurry again, this time a tear hits Robert’s wrist, and he sniffs while typing out,  _ Any excuse to dance, that’s her.  _

Robert slides down, back against the tub behind him, hard tile beneath him. He’s shivering, back freezing from the porcelain and  _ them _ . He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that Aaron can taste the iron of blood on Robert’s tongue.

Robert swipes to his photos, looking at images of him with a woman Aaron instantly recognizes as Sarah Sugden under his arm, she’s older, but her eyes are full of laughter, and she has both arms around Robert’s waist in a hug.

Robert’s vision swims again, hot paths of tears searing along his cheeks, sobs making him hiccup as he tries to keep them silent, occasional glances at the closed door Aaron knows leads to the bedroom.

Aaron’s heart breaks for the man he’s within.

He does the only thing he can, counting slowly and breathing along with Robert.

____________________________________


	16. Chapter 16

Aaron arrives at work thrown by the previous night’s dream. He’d been there for nearly an hour until Robert had washed his face with icy water and crawled back into bed, Chrissie still fast asleep. He can’t get Robert’s ache of melancholy out of his chest. 

Aaron’s feeling all sorts, tired and aching like he’d been sitting on cold tiles all night, not bundled up in his bed, dreaming it. He keeps knocking into things, feeling small bruises forming along his hips and elbows as he misjudges distances or strength. 

Mark squints at him from across the shop when Aaron scrapes his knuckles against a jagged twist of broken metal and swears.

“Get yourself together, Dingle, or I’ll send you to Nick’s and you’ll spend the day working on mopeds!” It’s an old threat, and the familiarity of it makes Aaron smile even as he rinses out the cut along his index finger.

“Your appointment is here!” His boss yells once he’s wrapped a plaster around it to protect it from grease.

“Yeah, be right out.” He calls over his shoulder, looking down at his hands and flexing to make sure the wrapping won’t pull the skin while he works.

Aaron knows the woman’s here for a consultation on a BMW X6, a flash SUV that he’d be interested in looking under the hood of, so he straightens his coveralls and tries to look competent and business-focused.

He opens the garage door, slowly revealing heels and a pencil skirt, elegant bag on one arm, other bent, hand resting on her hip.

He ducks under the door before she’s fully revealed, blinking into the sun, and instantly recognizes the woman in front of him as Chrissie White, Robert’s fiancée.

_ She sleeps in a silk eye mask.  _ His brain provides unhelpfully.

She smiles thinly, clearly not recognizing him, and reaches out a manicured hand for a shake, “You must be the mechanic that saved my Robert the other week. It’s too bad you dashed off before he could thank you!”

Aaron wants to throw up at being complicit in Robert’s lies, so he mutely nods and sticks his hand out automatically, feeling how soft hers is, recognizing how worn and callused his must be to her. 

Chrissie hasn’t stopped talking. “Now, Robert’s car has been so reliable ever since you looked at it again, but mine just keeps shuddering when I drive any faster than city speeds, and I was  _ so _ hoping you could look at it?”

Aaron clenches his jaw around confessions he can feel bubble up inside him.

He nods instead, trying to keep his eyes on the car, but needing to see Chrissie more, to know who Robert has chosen. 

_ Why you? _

He clears his throat, swallowing down questions. “Have you had any other issues, or is it just when you’re at high speeds?”

Her eyes unfocus for a moment, contemplating an answer, and Aaron can admire the clear intelligence behind them as she snaps back into focus, “There’s been a few times when the way it goes to the left is a bit wider than the right, but that’s all I can think of.” 

Aaron nods, trying to hold the details in his mind, the unease with her proximity making it difficult to focus. “Well, I’ll be sure to do a thorough go over of everything. Don’t want any unexpected complications to come up this time.”

“Well, then you’d be  _ my _ knight in shining armor too!” Her smile is more genuine this time and it turns his stomach.

He hides his discomfort by walking around the car and looking at the body for any damage.

“I really do want to say a sincere thank you from the both of us.” Chrissie appears at the other side of the car, making Aaron tense.

“It were nothing.” He shrugs off. 

“Not to me, it wasn’t. He could have died out there on that road, and we’d never have gotten here.” She’s looking down and turning the band around her finger, diamond sparkling in the sun as it moves.

She laughs lightly, almost to herself, while she keeps her eyes on her own hand, “I’d yelled at him that morning, told him to get out. That we were through.” 

She looks up at Aaron again, this time her eyes filled with emotion, “Without you, those might have been my last words to him.”

Aaron’s thrown back in his own mind to the curling fingers of dread in Robert’s stomach when he thinks of marriage.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, “Why’d you end it?”

She huffs out in annoyance, “I thought he’d been seeing someone behind my back. Turns out he’d just been busy planning our proposal.” 

She rolls her eyes at herself, “I wasn’t being crazy. He’s got form. But now that he’s settled he’ll stop with all that nonsense.”

_ He was with me the night before he gave you that bit of flash.  _ The zinging frisson along Aaron’s spine makes him clamp down on his tongue.

Chrissie’s smile is feline, like she’s won some trophy. Leaning in as if she and Aaron are confidants, “I managed to tame Robert Sugden.”

Aaron clenches his hands, feeling a surge of anger at her, at the possessive way she talks about Robert.

He’s saved from his own temper by Mark. “Ah, Ms. White, I see you’re in good hands. I was wondering if you’d like a tea or anything?”

Aaron’s never been happier for social norms than when he sees Chrissie smile blandly over his shoulder at his boss, “That sounds lovely.”

She hands the keys to Aaron, who avoids eye contact and clenches his grip around them, focusing on the bite of metal into his palm.

He stares at the black car before him, expensive but boring, the way it says money but sense.

His hands are shaking by his sides.

He thinks about Robert, about the way he’d dragged teeth over Aaron’s throat, dug his fingers deep into muscle, pinned Aaron down as he sucked, the curved bow of his back when Aaron had bottomed out. 

_ All you’ve done is put a collar on a tiger, that doesn’t make him a kitten.  _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is jumpy for the rest of the day, feeling the electric pulse of Robert under his skin.

It’s only when he gets off work that he looks at his phone and realizes that Alex has texted him to confirm their drinks that night.

_ So I should be done with the estate agent by around 5:45, but just to be safe let’s say 6:30?  _

Aaron rolls his eyes.  _ sure.  _

The blinking notification that Alex is typing remains for far longer than Aaron feels comfortable with.  _ So glad you’re still up for it. I found a place that looks like they infuse all their own liquors, and they’re listed as queer-friendly, so that’s a plus! And there’s an open mic so there’s music to enjoy if there are any awkward silences _ _ — _ _ your mum says you’re slow to warm up. (Don’t worry, I like the strong and silent type!) _

Aaron swallows down the urge to chuck his phone against the pavement. 

He sends a screenshot of the text to Adam along with an eye roll emoji.  _ Text me at 7:15 with an out? Save me from meddling mum. _

He knows he’s made the right choice in a best mate when he gets a message back immediately.  _ U got it.  _

Aaron arrives at 6:35 having made no effort beyond a quick shower and one of his nicer hoodies. He grimaces at the menu, which is themed like tarot cards and has drinks with names like ‘bubblebath’ and ‘lightbulb moment.’

Alex orders something called a ‘Bath Bomb’ and Aaron blanches when he sees there’s no beer. He settles for a scotch that he vaguely recognizes the name of.

They share mild pleasantries, Aaron asking after Emmerdale, and Alex sharing a few stories of farmer antics and injuries.

It’s painfully dull, Aaron never seems to have a satisfactory answer to Alex’s questions  _ What’s your favorite book? Where do you like to go on holiday? What about Manchester drew you to the city? _ , and he can’t find it within him to ask much in return.

“How were the flats?” He asks, just so Alex will start talking and he won’t have to do much while they wait.

He sips his scotch, trying to focus instead on the pleasant warmth in his stomach.

On the detailed description of the third place, Aaron lets his eyes wander over Alex’s shoulder to the swanky bar, and sees a familiar face that he can’t quite place.

She catches his eye and smiles, waving. 

“Do you know her?” Alex has noticed his distraction, and just as Aaron’s frowning trying to place her, she walks over.

“Hi Aaron, remember me?” 

He’s about to admit that he doesn’t when it hits him. “You’re the paramedic, yeah?” 

He squints, “Sasha?”

She smiles, nodding, then looks back and forth between him and Alex, cheeks coloring. “Guess I was really barking up the wrong tree!”

Aaron wrinkles his nose, embarrassed, “Sorry.” 

He gestures to Alex, trying to prolong this interruption from another description of exposed brick walls, “This is Alex, he’s about to do a rotation at your hospital.” 

Alex straightens, reaching a hand out to shake, “I’m in Emergency Medicine.”

“Well, we’ll be seeing a lot of you, I guess.” She nods back to a group at the bar, “We’re a paramedic team that works in Manchester.”

Alex leans in, “Well, I better keep you on my good side, yeah? So you’ll bring me all the interesting cases.”

Sasha laughs, “More like you’ll want us to let you know which docs to avoid. It’s a bit of an old boys club there, I’d keep—” she gestures at the two of them, “This under wraps if you want to stay on. There’s some great people, but some bigots too.”

Aaron remembers why he’d liked her.

Alex nods, “I’d love to hear any advice you have.”

She glances over at Aaron, “You’re both welcome to come join us, hear today’s complaint session, but I don’t want to intrude…”

_ Yes! Go!  _ Aaron tries to exude, wanting the bland night done with already.

Alex looks torn, opening his mouth to make excuses to Sasha.

Aaron’s phone buzzes, and he swipes it open.  _ m8, locked out. can i borrow ur keys?  _

“My best mate just got locked out of his place, and I’ve got the only set of spares.” He pulls out his wallet and does his best to look disappointed, but he’s never been much of an actor. 

He puts down the note that he hopes will cover at least his drink, not wanting Alex to have to pay for this disaster.

Alex doesn’t look too unhappy, Aaron’s relieved. He turns to Sasha and stands, “Guess this is fate! I suddenly have a free night to hear all the gossip about my future bosses.”   


Alex pauses awkwardly in front of Aaron, so he stuffs his hands deep into his pockets so he won’t have to do anything other than shrug a goodbye.

Stepping outside into the dark he feels his pocket buzz.  _ all clear? _

Aaron smiles fondly at Adam’s check in.  _ thanks mate. _

He scrolls down to find his mum and pauses over the last message from Robert. He taps on the number, biting his lip as he stares at it.

The zing of excitement at just seeing his words, the clear overwhelming  _ want _ in them, makes Aaron feel more himself than he had at any moment with Alex.

He inhales sharply, closing his eyes, angry at himself for wanting Robert.

_ Chrissie thinks she owns him.  _ The voice comes unbidden to Aaron’s mind, making him swallow.

The spike of fury at that makes Aaron shove his phone back into his pocket and walk across the street to a dark pub.

He’s two pints in when his phone buzzes against his thigh.

His mouth goes dry when he sees the message is from Robert. 

He opens it, eyes widening as he sees he managed to send a garble of letters when he didn’t lock the screen before.

Robert’s written  _ I thought you were done with me? _

He stares at the words on the screen, tapping his ankle to the chair leg beneath him. 

Aaron tries to think of a moment in his life where he’s felt as alight as when Robert touches him. He tries to imagine a future where he never experiences that again.

The thought opens up a darkness inside him, the same vast emptiness he’s dreamed so many times before.

_ can change my mind cant i?  _ He types back before he’s really thought it through.

_ Suppose.  _ Is all he gets back for a moment, then:  _ Maybe I’m done with you. _

Aaron’s palms go cold, he taps the bone in his ankle harder against the wood, trying to center himself. 

He thinks about how Robert had felt in the dream, the aching need for a distraction, anything to keep him treading water. He bites his lip as he types.  _ Im headed home. Offer’s there if you want it. _

The dots appear and disappear while Aaron downs the last of his beer and stands.

The vibration in his hand sends thrills of excitement through his frame.

_ Give me twenty minutes. _

____________________________________


	17. Chapter 17

Aaron makes it back to his in record time, giving himself enough of a buffer to throw his work stuff off the bed and into the hamper and peel off his hoodie, leaving just a long-sleeved black shirt, already warm from the idea of Robert being near him again.

A knock on the door startles him, forcing him to will away the fizzle in his chest so his hands will steady.

He doesn’t even have the door fully open when Robert’s making a mad lunge for him, hands at his cheeks, Aaron grabbing Robert’s sides as he absorbs the force of the taller man.

_ God I missed this. _

Robert tastes like bitter espresso, his grip on Aaron is shaky and desperate, his tie loosened already when Aaron’s hands drift up to pull it free. 

A throat is cleared outside in the hall, and Aaron breaks from the kiss to look over Robert’s shoulder, seeing his neighbor, arms full of shopping, glance meaningfully at his wide-open front door.

Robert turns his head, hands never leaving Aaron’s body, and kicks the door closed, the slam making Aaron’s keys rattle on the shelf by the door.

And then Robert’s mouth is on him again, fierce growl pulled from his chest, the bite to Aaron’s bottom lip less controlled than he’s been in the past.

_ Desperate for you.  _ Robert’s silent admission echoes through Aaron’s mind, making him dig his fingers into Robert’s ribcage, feeling the expansion of Robert’s breaths under his hands.

Aaron lets Robert push him backwards, walking without seeing what’s behind him, unwilling to break the kiss, to tame the moment between them, wanting to feel the raw energy of Robert, the mirrored snarling maw of want and need that’s filled Aaron’s chest since he first saw the other man.

Robert’s thumbs push just on the pleasurable side of too hard at Aaron’s throat, his nails scratching faintly across Aaron’s scalp under the short hair at the sides of his head.

When they collide with the jam of Aaron’s door, teeth clacking together slightly at the impact, Robert pulls away, his eyes dark, mouth open and panting, lips bruised pink.

He looks _ wrecked. _

Aaron leans back in, weight on his toes as he rises up to Robert’s height, hands pulling Robert’s shirt from where it’s tucked in, palms hungry for the skin beneath.

Robert’s sides are hot under Aaron’s touch, the soft skin feels almost velvety, the muscles beneath tensed. Aaron can feel the day of sitting in an office, back straight, tie in place. 

Robert’s hands slide down Aaron’s chest, making their way under his shirt, and settle at the base of Aaron’s spine, the broad heat of them spreading across Aaron’s lower back.

Aaron can feel the change as Robert sighs against his lips, the muscles under Aaron’s fingertips relaxing, the kiss shifting deeper, an open-mouthed pant at Aaron’s ear.

_ I need this. _

The sweet syrupy heat between them, world narrowing to the feeling of the doorway pushing into Aaron’s shoulderblades, pressing into an itch he never feels when Robert’s near. 

Robert pulls at Aaron, redirecting them to his messily made bed, footsteps mirroring like dancers. He doesn’t shove Aaron down onto the bed, but he pushes lightly on his hipbones and follows him down, the weight of him pressing Aaron into the mattress, both of them still fully dressed.

The heat where their chests touch, the light pressure of Robert’s knees on either side of Aaron’s thighs, the solid breadth of Robert’s back under Aaron’s hands, they all feel enveloping and overwhelming and  _ right _ .

Aaron hates that feeling Robert surround him makes him feels safe.

He can’t quite look at that emotion, can’t bring himself to examine and name it, choosing instead to lick a path along Robert’s jaw, nipping at his earlobe, distracting them both from whatever it is that lies heavy between them.

Robert bucks when Aaron’s teeth meet his ear, gasping and clenching his hand around Aaron’s bicep, growl between his teeth. 

“No marks.” 

Aaron knows that Robert can’t see his face, the way it twists in jealousy as he defiantly skims his mouth to Robert’s neck, wanting to stop and bruise the skin beneath his lips just so Chrissie can see she’s not got any hold on Robert.

Instead he scrapes his beard against the skin, hoping to leave a scuff of burn that Robert can’t explain.

Robert doesn’t stop him.

He doesn’t stop Aaron as he unbuttons the shirt between them, shoving it off Robert’s shoulders, scraping his nails across freckled skin, leaving light red marks but no scratches.

Doesn’t stop Aaron as he flips them, freeing himself enough to pull off his layer of black, Robert’s hands exploring new skin greedily.

It’s only when Aaron rolls his hips that Robert takes charge again, curling up to recapture Aaron’s lips, making Aaron sit back on Robert’s thighs, knees bent, as Robert palms him through his trousers, a punch of need slamming into Aaron’s chest as he groans against Robert’s tongue.

Robert’s  _ hands _ .

Robert breaks the kiss and smiles like the bastard he is, hand stilling, voice deep and low, “Talented with ‘em, used to be a mechanic in my teens.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, “Anyone can work the odd tire change, mate.”

He wishes he could have said it without panting, but in his defense Robert’s palm is pressed perfectly against his zipper, and Aaron’s mostly glad he held still instead of wantonly pushing his hips towards it.

Robert’s eyes narrow, even as he moves to Aaron’s fly to undo the button, “Sorry not all of us can tune a car and then have it break down a week later.” 

Robert’s hand around his length cuts off Aaron’s breath, making him bite into his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. 

He leans in and presses his forehead to Robert’s, closing his eyes to the heavy slide of Robert’s hand, the rhythmic flex of his forearm. 

“Can’t. Predict. Battery. Failure.” Aaron grits out before pressing a harsh kiss to Robert’s open mouth, silencing any smart reply.

Robert leans into it, kissing Aaron wet and deep, grip tightening lightly, making Aaron’s breath hitch.

Aaron doesn’t want this over that quickly. He wants Robert spread across his back, pushing in until they’re skin to skin.

The image paints itself across his eyelids, the way Robert would feel pressing Aaron down, filling his senses.

Robert must know what he wants because his hand stops moving, making Aaron’s stomach flex with the loss, but also clearing his mind enough that he can put two hands on Robert’s chest and push him back, shifting to pull off his jeans.

When Robert’s knelt beside him, chest flushed pink, he proves to Aaron just how good he is with his hands, long fingers finding just the right spots. He curls his fingers making Aaron’s vision blacken at the edges, only getting out half words and gasps.

_ No one’s ever been like this before. _

Robert presses a firebrand of a kiss onto Aaron’s chest, whispering against sweat-slicked skin “You’re beautiful like this.”

_ It’s always been us. _

Aaron squeezes his eyes shut against that, feeling like his chest has been cracked open, exposed.

“Shut up and fuck me.” He growls.

Robert laughs against Aaron’s ribs, pulling his hand out and tapping at Aaron’s side so he’ll turn over.

He slides a hand across Aaron’s back, settling the span of his palm on the spot where Aaron’s felt the prickle and itch for as long as he can remember. 

He bites into his forearm not knowing what would spill out from his mouth.

When Robert presses in, Aaron’s mouth hangs open, sucking in air, trying to take in the sensations without drowning in them. Trying to memorize the feeling of Robert.

The heat of his chest, the sound of his breath, the electric current from his hand on Aaron’s back, the strength of his thighs.

Robert leans over Aaron, moving their hands into a mirror of their bodies, palms on the back of Aaron’s, fingers interwoven with the rumpled sheets beneath them.

_ We can’t stop this. _

The press of Robert’s lips to the nape of Aaron’s neck makes him shudder.

_ I can’t give this up. _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s back in the valley, the unnaturally dark and close storm swirling around him.

_ Why are the gods doing this?  _ He thinks to them.

_ They fear us. _ Robert’s voice threads through his consciousness.

There’s a ball of fear in Aaron’s gut, knowing what’s to come.

The lightning strike, the mind-ending pain of finality at his back. 

When it comes, the white-hot scream of electricity through the air cuts like a knife at their flesh.

He’s thrown to the ground. He knows that behind him Robert lies there covered in blood. Can hear his choked wet gasp.

He drags himself over, feeling the aching loss in his chest almost as profoundly as the pain at his back.

Robert’s reaching for him, hand tacky with blood tracking over his cheek.

Aaron knows what he says next, he’s said it in this dream before, “I’ll find you.”

“I know.” Robert replies, just as he always does.

The storm descends, whipping around them, forcing Aaron’s eyes shut against the gale, dust and pebbles picked up and flung against the skin of his face. 

He feels the ground torn from beneath him, tries to tuck himself into a ball even as his back screams in agony at the stretch.

He keeps his eyes shut even when he is slammed into the earth again.

He doesn’t want to see the expanse around him. 

He knows Robert’s not there.

____________________________________

  
  


He gasps awake, a bubble of a sob in his throat, and meets Robert’s wide eyes. 

Aaron’s heart is racing.

_ Did you end up all alone? _

_ Reaching out for a man you know isn’t there? _

Robert is shaking.

_ I found you. _

Aaron swallows down the words. Knows he can’t say them to Robert.

So he reaches out instead, places a hand on Robert’s cheek, thumbs across the bone beneath his eye.

Robert doesn’t flinch back, but he’s tense and still, and Aaron is suddenly unsure, pulling his hand back.

They lie there in silence. It feels weighty and tense.

Aaron can almost see the moment Robert retreats back into himself, his eyes leaving Aaron’s, jaw tensing.

“Don’t.” Aaron croaks out.

Robert’s brow furrows. “Don’t what?”

_ Don’t go. Don’t marry her. Don’t leave me. _

Aaron squeezes his eyes shut.

“Just.” Aaron swallows. “Stay.”

Robert stills. 

The silence in the room feels almost corporeal, like it could smother Aaron with its mass.

Robert opens his mouth.

He closes it.

Aaron clenches his fist, and sits up, readying himself for another rejection.

The harsh inhale through Robert’s nose makes him turn.

Robert looks sinful, lying on Aaron’s grey sheets, blond hair in contrast to Aaron’s dark pillow. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes unreadable.

“I won’t leave her, Aaron.” 

The words are like a shot to the gut, but Aaron takes them, hoping there’ll be something new in Robert’s tune.

“But I can’t—” Robert stops, swallowing down whatever he was about to say.

“I don’t know how to not have you too.”

The words are tight and clipped, like Robert doesn’t know how to let them out, like he can’t keep them under his control.

_ Then why not pick me? _

Aaron looks at Robert, searching for an answer he’s not sure exists.

“What makes you think I’ll settle for what you’ll give?” He tilts his chin up in defiance, needing even a moment of control before he gives over to Robert.

Robert sits up higher, resting forearms on his bent knees. Aaron tracks the elegant line of his neck to his shoulder, sees the way it’s tight and tense, the way Robert’s holding himself still.

_ Give me something. _

“Because I know how it feels for me without you.” Robert avoids Aaron’s gaze, “And I think you feel the same way.”

Aaron can’t help but start at the admission, the truth of it taking his breath away.

“Like something torn up.” Aaron murmurs.

Robert nods, resting his chin on his arm, looking at the wall behind Aaron.

_ Once, as awkward teenagers Robert had asked Aaron to sit with him in a field, surrounded by hay. He’d held his knees like this, a ball of fear and longing, looking up with tear-stained cheeks at Aaron. Told him he’d begged their priest for forgiveness. That he would be leaving town the next day, because they’d called him a deviant. _

They sit in silence, Aaron turning over in his mind the aching loneliness at his core when Robert’s not around.

Thinks about an eternity like the past weeks.

“Fine.” He grits out. “But when you’re with me you don’t mention her.” 

Robert nods, relief flooding over his face.

“Do you have to get back?” Aaron can’t keep the neediness from his voice.

Robert shakes his head and shifts his weight forward onto his knuckles, moving towards Aaron, “She’s out of town this weekend. We’ve got  _ days _ .”

Aaron wishes he could feel guilty about that but all he feels is the thrill of want as Robert leans in and brings their lips together.

____________________________________


	18. Chapter 18

There’s cold metal at Aaron’s back, but the heat at his front more than makes up for it. Robert, face barely illuminated in the pitch black, is propped up on his elbows, a flash of teeth show he’s smiling.

“And where are we now, Dingle?” His tone is teasing.

Aaron groans in frustration. For some reason they’d been moving through locations of his early transgressions with the law.

_ An alley full of sprayed letters. _

_ A corner store, front lock kicked in. _

_ His father’s flat, leather armchair slashed. _

_ A yard back in Emmerdale where he’d taken a bat to some planters. _

_ A schoolroom, desks pushed aside, empty cans crumpled in a corner and cigarette burns on the wall. _

Aaron pushes them off the car behind him and looks around, recognizing it as his boss’s brother’s garage. There’s a bubble of guilt seeing the smashed boxes on the ground.

“Moved to Manchester without much of a plan. My mum had been goin’ on about working for my uncle, and I just couldn’t stay in Emmerdale.” 

He sighs.

_ Couldn’t handle being the only gay in town. Everyone setting me up with any cousin or nephew they thought might be.  _

Robert nods, leaning into Aaron, an assuring weight at his side.

“Applied to a few garages, got told I needed references.” Aaron rolls his eyes.

_ How could I get those without work? _

“Managed to get a day somewhere, but the boss fired me because I seemed jumpy.”

_ The itch was so bad back then I twitched sometimes. _

He looks at the packages on the ground, “Knew I couldn’t make rent, and I’d seen this place. Owner seemed trusting, not much security, had some high-end parts I could grab.” 

Robert nods, “Not a bad score for twenty.”

Aaron makes a face

“‘Cept I got caught.” He gestures at the packages, “Turned out the owner lives in the flat upstairs and isn’t much of a sleeper.”

Robert lets out a low chuckle, “No wonder he didn’t need big locks.”

Aaron shrugs, looking around him for the man in question. “Nick. He weren’t even mad. Not really. He recognized me from earlier when I’d handed him my CV.” 

“He told me if I were so keen to get my hands on parts I should work for him and his brother.” Aaron lets himself smile at the memory, grateful the shame has long since become something warmer.

They stand there in silence for a moment, Aaron looking at the mess he’d made that day until he feels Robert’s nose brush against his temple.

“Hard man, should’ve known.” The purr in his ear is full of admiration, and it makes Aaron tilt his head back so Robert can kiss the tendon on the side of his neck.

“Think you can still jimmy the lock to this car?” Robert taps the window behind him, pressing his lips to the bone of Aaron’s jaw.

“We’re in a  _ dream _ Robert.” Aaron scoffs lightly while letting his hands skim down Robert’s sides.

He can feel the quirk of Robert’s lips against his skin, breath hot against Aaron’s ear. “Lost your touch then?”

Aaron squeezes his fingers into the solidness of Robert,  _ real _ in a way dreams never felt, pulls him closer and leans in to press a kiss to Robert’s neck.

He reaches with one hand behind Robert, finding the door handle without difficulty, and pulls, hitting Robert with the car’s door lightly, the light turning on in the interior.

Robert lets out an exhale of surprise, pulling back to frown at Aaron who smiles while shaking his head at the other man.

“It’s a garage, they’re left unlocked so mechanics can do their jobs.”

Robert raises his eyebrow, crowding into Aaron’s space, leaving room for the door behind him to open more, a slice of cool light spilling onto the ground. 

Aaron doesn’t move back much, letting Robert’s full height press against his chest, amusement on his lips.

“I heard  _ some _ mechanics get stuck into more than just engines here.” Robert’s words rumble against Aaron’s own chest. 

Aaron rolls his eyes and pretends to consider the offer for a beat, head tilted, eyes to the ceiling, before putting a palm on Robert’s chest and pushing him back into the open door, the light illuminating Robert’s grin.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron wakes up, feeling Robert’s arms around him, duvet thrown haphazardly over them both. The room is silent except for their breathing.

He lets himself enjoy the light weight of Robert’s forearm on his side, hand loose and warm spanning Aaron’s chest.

He’s achingly hard from the dream.

He can tell by the change in Robert’s inhales behind him that he’s waking up.

There’s a frozen moment when he wonders if Robert will regret the night.

But Robert pulls him closer, the spark of heat in Aaron’s gut nearly blinding as he gets the reminder that they’re nude. He’s exhausted, they’ve been dreaming and it doesn’t quite feel like he ever actually slept, but he  _ wants _ so badly to have Robert again.

Robert exhales across his skin, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s shoulder, making Aaron close his eyes against the need.

_ I never thought I would be like this. _

_ Weak for you. _

“Stop thinking so loud.” Robert mumbles into the short hairs at Aaron’s nape, a kiss following the words. 

Aaron bends his neck, letting Robert kiss the vertebrae beneath his skin, Robert’s palm pulling Aaron ever closer. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Are ya?” Aaron’s world is half-muffled by the pillow under his cheek, but he can feel Robert’s voice at his back.

The bridge of Robert’s nose is pressed to the place where Aaron’s neck meets his shoulder, breath hot along his collarbone.

Aaron can’t keep himself from pressing back to Robert, reveling in the sharp inhale behind him. 

The clench of Robert’s fingers against his sternum.

The second hand edging between the mattress and Aaron’s rib cage.

Robert pulls him closer so they touch from nape to ankle, nearly fused together. “Thought you wanted to sleep.”

Aaron covers Robert’s hand on his chest, dragging it lower, “Changed my mind. Can’t get rid of ya either way. Least this way I get off.”

Aaron bites his lips and rolls his hips against Robert’s hand, bringing his arm back to grab on Robert’s hip to try and pull him closer. 

He can feel the ripple of laughter though Robert’s abdomen, “Should’ve known it wouldn’t let us get anywhere.”

____________________________________

  
  


They’re on a lush mountain side, grape vines making stripes across the land beneath them.

“I’ve never been here.” Robert says next to him, leaning against his elbows like he’d settled there for all that they’d only popped into this moment an instant ago.

Aaron narrows his eyes, trying to recognize the horizon.

“Don’t think I have either.” He looks down at his hands, blade of grass he doesn’t remember picking between two fingers.

He looks up, the sky is vividly blue, and there’s a birdsong he doesn’t recognize in the air.

The breeze is clean and calming. 

They sit there, waiting for something to happen. Memories to stumble by, or past selves to observe.

Nothing comes.

Aaron swallows, tearing up his grass into tinier and tinier chunks until he’s got green stains on his fingerprints.

“When did this start for you?” He shocks himself with the question.

Robert is quiet for long enough that Aaron pulls up another blade of grass and starts working on it.

“I get migraines.” Robert says slowly. “Ever since I left Emmerdale.”

Aaron stays still, waiting for more.

“Sometimes they got so bad I’d pass out.” Robert laughs mirthlessly, “Used to give my mum such a fright.”

Aaron’s stomach twists with the mention of Sarah. They haven’t spoken about her.

“I started on a new drug about two days before we met, because they’d been getting worse.”

Robert’s voice sounds thoughtful behind Aaron.

“Had to duck out of a work drinks, managed to spill a kilo of arborio rice across the aisle at the shop, it kept going.” 

Aaron turns to look at Robert, who is staring off at the horizon.

“Doctor said one of the side effects was vivid dreams.” He turns and catches Aaron’s eye, “Thought this was that for a bit.”

Aaron narrows his eyes, “Don’t think so.”

“Suppose not.” Robert shrugs.

Aaron turns over this story in his mind like it’s an engine part he needs to find a crack in.

“No itch?” Aaron frowns.

Robert shakes his head, “The migraines sort of radiated down to my spine, but not like yours.”

Aaron can’t keep the sides of his mouth from turning down, feeling achingly alone in a way he’d been certain was gone.

Robert must see it, because his voice is kind when he next speaks, “Recognized your eyes when you came to help. Thought it was some pain-induced hallucination.”

Robert lies back, staring up at the sky. “You didn’t go away. I kept seeing you, sometimes… Being you.”

The confirmation spoken aloud makes Aaron’s throat feel tight. “Me too.”

____________________________________

  
  


They’re in bed, an open pizza box next to Robert’s hip, a sheen of grease on Robert’s fingertips where it’s dragging paths across Aaron’s chest. 

He can’t bring himself to care. Not about the circular stain an errant pepperoni had left on  _ his _ pillow, nor the crumbs on the sheets he knows he’ll have to deal with at some point. Nothing matters because Robert’s got a bit of tomato sauce at the corner of his lips and he’s telling some daft story Aaron’s not really listening to, and his eyes are alight with humor, little wrinkles at the edges.

They haven’t left Aaron’s flat since Robert arrived Friday night. He’s not certain what time it is, but he’s reasonably sure it’s around noon on Monday, the bank holiday giving them an extra stolen day together, an extra few hours of ease and comfort that Aaron can’t imagine giving up.

Robert’s things have somehow multiplied on Aaron’s surfaces. His watch on the bedside table, his wallet on the dresser since he pulled it out to pay for their curries the day before, his coat hung by the door, shoes kicked under the kitchen table. 

He’s wearing Aaron’s sleep pants, worn and grey and too short in the ankles, but soft and tight enough that Aaron can’t help but let his eyes sweep down and admire the way they trace the contours of Robert’s legs, the lazy stretch of him.

Robert’s phone is plugged in on the night table behind Aaron, the one he’s silently claimed as his this weekend, putting his glass of water and charger on that side. 

Aaron doesn’t want them to leave with him.

There’s a hum of vibration behind Aaron.

Robert leans over Aaron, chests brushing against each other, and picks his phone up, glancing at the screen.

His face goes white at whatever he sees on the screen, ripping the cord from the phone and sitting up, hands shaking.

“Rob, what’s wrong?” Aaron sits up too.

“My mum.” Robert’s pushing himself out of bed blindly, typing frantically and ignoring the pizza as it thunks to the floor. 

“She had a fall. Vic is with her at the hospital.” His voice is tiny, eyes wild, breath short. “I have to go.”

Aaron stands, nodding. “I’ll drive you.”

Robert’s frozen, blinking at Aaron, caught in indecision.

Aaron gentles his voice. “You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll take you. We can come up with an excuse on the way.”

Robert’s shoulders sag, “Alright.”

Aaron squats, digging in and pulling out a simple maroon jumper too long in the arms for him. “Here.”

Robert looks lost, staring at the ball of fabric in his hand. 

Aaron reaches out and lightly cups Robert’s elbow, “Breathe.”

_ You can do this. _

Robert shudders under his palm, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily.

Aaron counts silently, breathing with him.

When Robert opens his eyes he’s got color back in his cheeks, a set of determination in his jaw. He nods once, stepping out of Aaron’s space, and begins to dress.

Aaron turns to do the same, a ball of lead in his stomach.

_ He can’t lose her. Not yet. _

____________________________________


	19. Chapter 19

The drive to Hotten Hospital is tense, Robert on his phone, knee bouncing as he types frantically. Aaron presses his foot down as much as he can, enjoying the responsive acceleration of the Porsche.

The only sound in the car is the buzz of replies in Robert’s hand. Aaron sneaks a look at Robert’s face, the way he’s still pale, every muscle in his jaw and neck tense.

He wants to reach out, put a hand on Robert’s knee, tell him she’ll be alright, that the doctors know what they’re doing, that she’s in good hands.

He tightens his grip on the wheel.

Robert’s phone vibrates more, and Aaron stares straight ahead as the man beside him sighs shakily.

“Hi.” Robert’s voice breaks the tense silence.

Aaron can just make out a woman’s voice on the other end.

“She might have a crack in her hip, and she’s got a cut on her head where she hit a counter.” Robert’s voice is full of emotion, breaking slightly on counter like he’s about to let out a sob but holds it in. 

The voice replies, a steady stream of soothing murmur, and Aaron  _ knows _ it’s Chrissie, and  _ hates _ that she gets to comfort Robert, that her voice makes him nod and swallow thickly.

“I know. I know. I just…” Robert’s sniff makes Aaron shift gears higher, winding past a truck.

Robert curls forward, resting his elbow on his knee, palm across his eyes, “I’m not ready.”

Aaron’s hand is reaching out in the air between them before he can stop it.

“When does your train get in?” Aaron’s stomach sours at the desperation in Robert’s voice, and he jerks back, squeezing hard enough to make his palms scream.

“We’ll be there. I’ll text you the room number.” 

Robert nods invisibly to Chrissie, eyes resolutely on the road.

“I love you too.”

Aaron nearly bites through his lip, feeling the sharp sting, tasting the iron on his tongue, trying to hear the lie in Robert’s voice.

He’s not sure there is one.

Robert exhales.

He doesn’t look at Aaron.

They’re fifteen minutes away.

Robert returns to his phone.

Aaron lets him.

____________________________________

  
  


“You go in. I’ll park and let you know where it is.” The words make Aaron’s throat ache, the heavy silence between them broken as he pulls closer to the hospital.

Robert nods, still looking anywhere but Aaron.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron doesn’t know why he says it, but it feels like the thing to say.

Robert finally seems to see him again. He blinks, then nods dismissively.

“You can leave the keys tucked in the sun visor.” He’s tense, like he’s ready to jump out the car when they pull up.

Aaron frowns. “I can bring ‘em to ya.”

“No.” Robert says too loudly for the small space. “Text where you park.” His voice is tight and clipped.

“ _ Robert _ .” Aaron can’t help but feel the rejection like an impact.

“Just...” Robert’s voice is strained. “Stay away.” 

Aaron can almost hear the walls being built up around Robert.

“My mum doesn’t need more stress.” 

Aaron works his jaw, shaking his head. “I just want to help.”

Robert’s looking out the window again, hands tight on his thighs, knuckles white. “I don’t need your help.” 

Aaron opens his mouth to reply  _ but you can have it _ .

“I have Vic and Chrissie.”

Aaron can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

Robert swallows, and his voice becomes more certain. “They’re my family.”

Everything in Aaron wishes he heard space for him on the list.

_ You knew what you were getting in to  _ a mocking voice echoes through his mind.

He clenches his teeth and focuses on pulling up to the hospital entrance. 

Robert hesitates for a moment, then shoves his phone into his pocket and climbs out of the car. 

Aaron slams the side of his fist against the wheel before him and holds in the yelp of pain.

He finds a space and considers not telling Robert where his stupid precious car is.

_ His mum is dying. _

That makes him close his eyes against the guilt. He pulls out his phone and texts the spot before pulling up train and bus schedules to find his way home.

The seat beside him buzzes.

Aaron closes his eyes and shakes his head. He makes himself look at the seat. Robert’s phone is sitting on the leather next to him. 

_ Must have missed his pocket.  _ His mind supplies unhelpfully.

He stares at the rectangle of plastic.

It buzzes again and he stares up at the roof of the car, knowing he has to bring it to Robert.

He picks it up and shoves it angrily into his pocket along with the keys.

It’s only once he’s inside that he realizes he doesn’t know where Sarah is. 

“Aaron!” An unfamiliar voice calls out, making him turn. 

He very nearly groans in frustration, shoving hands into his hoodie, “Alex. Hi.”

The smile he gets in response is too warm, it makes Aaron want to roll his eyes. “Are you here to visit someone?”

Aaron’s mind goes blank, grasping for a lie.

“Erm.” He coughs. “Yeah. Sarah Sugden?”

Alex’s eyes go sad and soft, “Of course. You must have known her growing up.” 

Aaron nods noncommittally, feeling more guilt build up in his chest.

Alex glances down at the charts in his hands, “I can’t take you, I’m on rotation, but she’s in room 201.”

“Thanks.” Aaron follows the signs to the room, half hoping he’ll run into Robert in the hall.

He looks through the glass and Robert’s hunched next to a bed, hand on Sarah’s, listening intently to whatever she’s saying.

They look like they shouldn’t work. Vic on one side, delicate and dark-haired, Sarah in the middle, wisps of red hair poking out from under a silk scarf, bandage above her eye, and blonde, tall Robert. But there’s clearly so much love between them, from the way Robert’s delicately holding Sarah, to the soft small smiles Vic keeps throwing them both.

Aaron can’t bear to burst their bubble.

He stands there, frozen with indecision, until Sarah looks up and notices him.

There’s so much warmth in the wrinkles at the sides of her eyes.

Aaron can’t hear what she says, but she gestures toward him, pointing her children to the window.

Vic looks surprised. 

Robert looks like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff.

Vic waves him in, and Aaron can see Robert stiffen in his chair. 

_ It’ll look weirder if you don’t. _

Aaron steps to the door, desperately thinking of something to say. 

“Aaron, this is a surprise.” Vic keeps him from having to introduce himself.

Sarah frowns in confusion, so Vic continues, “Mum, this is Chas’s son. He moved into town a year or so after we left.”

Sarah’s shrewd eyes take in all of Aaron. 

Aaron looks away, “Sorry for interrupting.”

Sarah’s laugh surprises him, “Oh hush, my kids were just scolding me about not cooking now that my balance is shot.” She rolls her eyes, letting Aaron in on the joke, “But I told them, if I can’t make myself toast with more butter than bread, then I might as well give up now.”

Robert’s hand clutches at Sarah’s sheets, Vic’s eyes go wide.

Aaron shocks himself by smiling.

“See?  _ He _ knows the value of toast.” She pokes at Robert’s arm, gesturing at Aaron. “You could learn something.”

Robert looks at Aaron, eyes softening, “Maybe, mum.”

“How’d you know we were here?” Vic asks, and Aaron’s heart races.

Robert’s eyes are wide, staring at him.

He opens his mouth, hand in his pocket, grasping at wisps of ideas.

_ My mum told me… I know Robert… Heard from Chrissie... I was just stopping in… a doctor pointed the room out... _

“I’m visiting Alex.” Tumbles out of his lips. 

Vic brightens, clapping her hands, “I knew you two would hit it off! He’s  _ so _ fit.”

She nudges Sarah, who rolls her eyes.

Aaron digs out the phone from his pocket, holding it out. “Found this phone by the entrance. Recognized you lot in the background.” 

Robert’s phone background is from Sarah’s healthier days, cheeks rounder, hair thicker. She’s got both Robert and Vic tucked under each arm, sitting in a pub garden. 

Robert’s mouth falls open a bit, and he pats at his pocket. 

“Robert!” Sarah rolls her eyes, “With the way you’re usually glued to that thing you’d think you’d’ve noticed.”

“I have a  _ job _ , mum!” This is clearly a comfortable argument in the Sugden family, and it makes Aaron itch with want to be part of it.

Aaron moves in right as Robert stands up, eyes still on Sarah, and suddenly they’re standing close, face to face. 

_ I kissed you awake today and you can’t even look at me. _

Robert is frozen, hand out. Aaron is the one to step back, eyes down, “Sorry.”

He puts the phone in Robert’s palm, careful to avoid touching him. 

Robert stares down at the phone.

“Say thank you! You’d think I raised you in a barn!” Sarah scolds.

“To be fair, as Sugdens, you  _ did _ .” Aaron says.

Sarah’s laugh is beautiful, even weakened by illness. “But it was a  _ nice _ barn, where we had  _ manners _ .”

Vic laughs along, patting her mum’s arm.

Even Robert eyes are crinkling at the sides, when he looks at Aaron. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you.”

He reaches out and shakes Aaron’s hand, holding longer than he should, making more eye contact than he should.

Aaron swallows, wanting nothing more than to pull him into a hug, to hold him close and let him know he’s there.

Instead he steps back, puts a seemly amount of space between them, and digs into the other pocket, pulling out the keys. “Any chance these are yours too? They were by the phone.”

Sarah smacks Robert’s thigh, as Aaron hands over the ring, “Robert!”

Robert has a mock look of offense on his face, gesturing around the room. “I’m sorry I was a little  _ preoccupied _ .”

Sarah rolls her eyes, “I know, but you can’t just leave your things around the hospital like it’s your bedroom.”

She leans around Robert, catching Aaron’s eye, “He used to leave his things on every surface. Chrissie, his girlfriend, finally taught him to pick up after himself.”

Aaron’s mind flashes to the scattered belongings around his apartment.

_ I don’t mind the clutter. _

“Fiancée, mum.” Robert cuts in. “Remember?”

Sarah waves her hand, “I’ve got a brain tumor, not amnesia. I’m just so used to calling her your girlfriend. The way you flit between people, I didn’t ever think I’d get to be Mother of the Groom.” She smiles sadly, eyes on the blanket in front of her.

Robert’s shoulders tighten.

“You will, though.” Vic rubs over the pale skin on Sarah’s arm.

Aaron needs to leave.

He steps back blindly, bumping straight into the edge of a clipboard. 

“Oof! Sorry, Aaron.” Aaron’s gut clenches at the hands on his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Alex.” He mutters to the ground. 

Robert’s head whips to look at the doctor, running his eyes up and down the man before raising a brow.

“Dr. Mason, I assume?” His voice drips condensation and Aaron wants to roll his eyes at the hypocrisy.

Alex straightens under the scrutiny, nodding. “I just wanted to check in, make sure Aaron found you alright.” 

Vic elbows Sarah and Aaron wants the ground to swallow him up. Instead he nods and avoids eye contact by swiping a thumb over his brow. “Yeah. All set.” 

Alex’s smile in return is blandly polite. “Great. Well, I’m off to check in on a few other patients. Unless you all need anything?”

“I’m sure we can call my mum’s attending physician if we do.” Robert sneers.

Alex looks like he’s about to say something and instead turns to Vic and Sarah, “Pleasure seeing you, as always. Wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Thanks, Alex.” Vic says with a half-smile.

“I’ve got to go too, I’ve got a… thing.” Aaron can’t be bothered to say more, just heads out, ignoring the way Robert instinctually reaches his hand out for a moment.

He stops and leans against the door, just out of sight, breathing in harshly, feeling the beat of panic. 

“Now  _ that _ is a fit man. Unlike Doctor Snooze.” Sarah’s voice carries to his ears.

“Mum!” Vic squeaks, “He could be your son!”

“I’m dying, not dead, Victoria.”

Robert’s nervous laugh echoes down the hallway as Aaron pushes off the wall and escapes.

____________________________________


	20. Chapter 20

Aaron doesn’t understand how he’s back in Sarah’s room.

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

_ Must’ve fallen asleep on the train. _

He blames the wreck of the day for the delay in realizing he’s within Robert.

He can feel the gnawing fear filling Robert’s gut, even as he nods along to Sarah’s story about her nightmare neighbor who keeps bringing her aubergines.

“You make a man one lasagna and he guesses you’ll like eggplant parmesan.” She’s griping, and Robert’s looking down at his feet and biting his lip to stay in control.

There’s footsteps to Robert’s side, and he looks up to see Alex.

_ Swear he gets duller every time I see him.  _ Aaron thinks, annoyed at the man’s constant interruption, and for a moment he fools himself that he can feel Robert’s subconscious chuckle.

Robert’s hands are clenched.

_ Jealous, are ya?  _ Aaron teases him to no response.

“Alex! I thought you’d be with Aaron?” Victoria’s voice butts in, and Robert’s nails dig into the flesh of his palm.

Alex looks confused, “No? I’m scheduled all day.” 

“I don’t think I made much of an impression on him, to be honest.” He smiles self-deprecatingly, making Aaron roll his eyes.

Robert practically preens internally and Aaron wishes he could shove him.  _ Prat. _

Vic’s brow furrows, nose wrinkling, and Aaron can feel Robert’s affection for her.

“But he said—” 

Sarah starts to cough, making both her children direct their attention to her.

Something in it sounds fake to Aaron’s ears.

She breathes deeply, turning her head to Vic. “I’m parched. Could you get me some ice water?”

Vic nods quickly, looking at Robert with barely concealed concern as she leaves.

Robert’s heart is racing.

Sarah turns to him, eyes assessing. 

Aaron can feel Robert flicking through his mind for explanations and excuses. Can feel him building walls and planning escapes.

“I love you, you know?” Sarah says, putting a hand that Robert’s skin remembers as more substantial on his.

Her soft approach makes the lies catch in Robert’s chest, wound tight. 

He nods.

She sighs, looking at him like she’s trying to find the right way to gentle him. 

Robert looks away, to the top of her hand, the skin pale and thin, bruised from the needle poked into it.

Aaron can feel the prickle of emotion across Robert’s skin. The shiver of fear and sadness and guilt and love all entwined.

“Robert—”

“Darling!” Chrissie’s voice cuts in, making both of them jump, and suddenly Robert’s on his feet.

She’s got her arms around him in a moment, jut of her chin resting on his shoulder, perfume filling his nostrils. She lowers her voice to his ear, “It’s alright. We’ll get through this.”

It hurts how much Aaron can feel Robert’s mind stop racing.

_ He listens to her. _

Chrissie lets go and Aaron’s spun with Robert as she moves in to place a kiss on Sarah’s cheek. “Sorry I’m late, I had to get a driver from the train because this one.” She lightly taps at Robert’s chest, then keeps her hand there making Aaron want to squirm away within Robert’s skin, “Wasn’t answering his phone.”

It takes a moment for Aaron to notice that Robert’s neck and back are tense, stomach still in knots even as he watches his fiancée.

_ He’s so tight around her. _

Chrissie gets to work straightening things, not listening when Sarah says she should sit.

When she finally takes a seat, it’s at Robert’s side, one hand on his forearm, the other draped over his shoulder, legs crossed so one foot is brushing against his calf.

Aaron can practically feel her scream of ownership.

_ Shows what you know.  _ He thinks bitterly.

Sarah’s eyes flick between them, and Aaron doesn’t know her well, but he doesn’t see the picture of a proud mum until her eyes meet Robert’s and she smiles.

“I like this color on you.” Chrissie says quietly, rubbing over the material.

Robert’s heart hammers in his chest, panicking as he remembers he’s wearing Aaron’s jumper. Excuses and stores already coming to mind, diversions for Chrissie’s questions.

“Oh! Before I forget. I brought you some chocolates.” She reaches down and pulls out a fancy gold box of perfectly wrapped sweets, and puts them on the small table at the side of the bed. 

_ Robert sitting in Aaron’s living room, sprawled on his sofa, arm over Aaron’s shoulder, scrolling through stations, before pausing at some  _ Nigella _ rerun.  _

_ “Mum loved this one. She doesn’t have much of an appetite recently, some new drug side effect.” _

_ Aaron hadn’t known what to do with the open honesty, so he’d just nodded and watched as raspberries became sauce. _

But Sarah smiles at the offer, “That’s too kind of you. I’ll have one right after tea.”

“Just don’t let Robert anywhere near them, you’ll  _ never _ get any.” Chrissie squeezes Robert’s hand, smiling at the shared joke.

Aaron’s hit by one of Robert’s memories of Sarah sneaking chocolate into his lunchbox, even when Jack scolded her, echoes of  _ “You’re spoiling the boy!”  _ making Aaron want to wrap young Robert in his arms.

Aaron can feel Robert’s cheeks blush lightly.

Sarah’s hand reaches out and taps Robert’s. “I don’t mind sharing.” 

She smiles at him, ever his co-conspirator.

Aaron’s pulled into another memory, this one overwhelmingly tinged at the edges with Robert’s heartache.

_ Even when Vic tried the all-natural diet that’s supposedly meant to help tumors. We would tiptoe down and make milkshakes at midnight, then bundle up on the sofa and watch old movies, the sound on low, so she could fall asleep next to him, leftover ice cream melting in her glass. _

  
  


____________________________________

  
  


Aaron starts awake, eyes wet at the corners.

The train is mostly empty, and it takes him a moment to get his bearings. He’s nearly home.

It doesn’t take too long before he’s opening his front door and immediately noticing the lingering signs of Robert. 

Second chair at the table pulled back. French press an ex had given Aaron pulled down effortlessly from a shelf he can’t reach without a stool. Tie still spooled on Aaron’s dresser. Charger for a phone too expensive for a mechanic’s salary still in the wall.

He tidies what he can make himself care about. Pizza box folded into the bin, mugs and cups deposited into the sink. 

He doesn’t know what to do about the other things, so he leaves them.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

_ Did I read things wrong the other night? My apologies if I did. I thought you weren’t interested.  _

Aaron groans, not needing Alex’s well-meaning whinging.

There’s a message below it, from Chas, unnoticed since the morning.  _ Well? Haven’t heard from you all weekend. How was McDreamy? _

He wants to scream into a pillow.

_ Hes nice, just… _

_ We dont… _

He types out and deletes letters, trying to word it right so his mum will back off. 

_ Hi. sorry, crazy weekend. Hes nice just not for me.  _

His mind flashes to Vic, to the way she’d frowned at Alex’s response. 

_ Went to hospital today to let him know. didnt want to do it over text, but he was busy. _

Given that he knows she’s behind the bar the response is fast enough to tell him either the Woolie is all Dingles or someone’s mad at having to wait.

_ Ah no, I really thought you’d get on!! Couldn’t you give it another go?? Maybe he was just nervous?? _

He sighs and collapses into the sofa, opening Alex’s message and typing out his reply.  _ no you were right. _

He returns to Chas’s text. 

_ Itd be awkward now, i already text him.  _

_ really dont think hes for me _

He sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes at the sad emoji string she replies with before he’s punched in the gut by guilt.

_ Robert’s losing his.  _

The thought makes him send her back a heart.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron spends all day at work studying, cleaning, and replacing each nut and bolt of Chrissie’s car. 

He allows himself a brief fantasy of fraying a break line and hoping for the worst.

Mark pats him on the shoulder and congratulates him on his diligence.

He settles for using a powerful cleanser with a smell so strong even he gets headaches.

At lunch time he stands back and admires the way the whole body gleams.

His phone buzzes with a text from Robert.  _ Mum’s scans are fine. Nothing broken. She’s staying another day then coming home with me. _

Aaron swallows thickly, feeling a knot of unease he didn’t know had been in his gut loosen.

He’s never been good at texting, but he awkwardly types what he’d want to hear.  _ glad to hear. shes amazing. _

No platitudes, no false assurances she’ll improve. It feels right.

Chrissie arrives and Aaron can feel the buzz of reply in his pocket as he shows her the tweaks he made and points out things to watch for.

“Well, all this looks fabulous.” She smiles, only hints of gratitude reaching her eyes. “I’m so lucky you could spend this time on short notice.”

He wipes non-existent grease from his hands so he has something to look at besides her.

“I certainly needed all this before I start commuting to London this week!” She laughs airily, tapping the shiny bonnet, leaving prints Aaron wants to wipe away.

_ What?  _ Aaron frowns, and she must mistake his expression for an invitation to continue.

“My work needs me there two days a week, just until we finish up the new site.” 

She smiles, leaning in like Aaron’s a mate, making him retreat. 

“You’re the first person I told. I just said yes this weekend.”

_ What about Sarah?  _ He almost blurts out, barely holding his tongue, mind racing.

_ What about Robert? _

Aaron wants to grab her and shake her, but he settles for twisting the rag in his hands violently and muttering “Congrats” to the earth between them.

Chrissie doesn’t notice, just follows him to the office, where Mark takes over.

Aaron steps outside, gulping in air against the rising tide of fury in his chest.

_ How can she not even think about him? _

A twisting darkness of hope within him makes him pause.  _ Maybe he’ll leave her. _

He closes his eyes against that thought, pressing his fist to his chest.

_ He loves her. _

The same niggling whisper slithers across his mind.  _ He needs you. _

Aaron wishes he were a better person.

He pulls out his phone, Robert’s last message burning a hole in his pocket.  _ Thanks for making her laugh. _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s in Robert’s skin but not his bed.

He’s at an unfamiliar table that he supposes is Robert’s dinner table.

The room is dark, and Robert’s got a glass in front of him that Aaron can taste the scotch from on his tongue.

Based on the heavy blinking Aaron can’t control, Robert’s been sitting and drinking here for a while.

A light goes on somewhere on the other end of the flat.

_ Go away. _

Aaron can feel how Robert holds himself, keeps from looking back to Chrissie.

He hears her soft approach, bare feet on carpet.

Her hands are cool on his shoulders, massaging fingers making the temperature difference even more apparent.

Robert shrugs her off.

“It’s just two days.” She says placatingly, hands carding through his hair. “You won’t even miss me.”

Robert stands too quickly, knocking the table while turning to her, “It’s not  _ that. _ It’s that you didn’t even  _ ask _ me.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes, gesturing at him dismissively. “There’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this.”

She turns away, and Robert slams down the glass onto the table, making her flinch and turn, mouth a disapproving line.

“We’ll talk when you feel like being reasonable about this, Robert.” 

She walks away again, shaking her head at Robert. He holds himself still, but Aaron can feel the boiling anger in his veins, the barely suppressed words on his tongue.

_ Listen to me!  _ Robert’s screaming with every molecule, making Aaron ache.

She pauses mid-hall, and Robert softens for a moment. 

She turns her head over her shoulder so he can hear. “When you’re done put away the glass. It’ll leave a ring otherwise.”

____________________________________


	21. Chapter 21

Aaron and Robert are kissing, Aaron’s back bare against a marble column, hidden in a corner of a temple, dark enough without any torches that they will be missed.

There’s a smell of burnt offerings in the air, the wind whipping up outside.

Robert pulls back, and the dream seems to freeze, and the stone behind Aaron’s shoulders is a carpet, and it’s light, and there’s a chandelier above them, and Robert’s hair is longer and pulled into a low ponytail.

Aaron can hear the window panes around them rattling.

And Aaron’s hands are clutching into sand, pushing up as he looks around, Robert sunburnt on the bridge of his nose and across his bare collarbones, confusedly blinking at the crystal blue of the water and the horizon.

There’s a storm above the ocean, roiling and thunderous.

And then it’s on them, and Robert’s eyes are wild and his hands are braced on either side of his head and pressing in.

He’s screaming wordlessly, and Aaron can’t do anything to help him, even as the storm the world around them apart.

____________________________________

_ She’s away and mum’s with Vic all day tomorrow. _

_ When can you get free? _

Aaron hasn’t heard much from Robert in nearly a week except for dreams where Robert’s scattered and stressed; storms and pain and disjointed half-memories. He can tell in them that Robert is worn thin and cracking at the edges.

So, when his phone buzzes on the table while he’s having dinner with his mum, he nearly chokes on his mouthful of roast.

_ I want to have you. _

He scrambles and grabs for his phone, hoping Chas hasn’t looked at the screen.

_ Miss your taste.  _

She raises an eyebrow, “Who’s got you all jumpy?”

_ Need to be in you. _

Aaron can feel his mouth go dry, eyes not wanting to leave the words on the screen, the needy confessions in text bubbles.

_ Haven’t been able to forget your tongue.  _

Aaron swallows, trying to buy himself a moment to get his mind out of Robert’s bed.

“Just a mate.” He mumbles into his lap as he types  _ im with my mum. _

Robert’s reply is quick.  _ Killing the mood here, Dingle. _

“What mate makes you blush like that?” Aaron can hear his mum’s needling tone, the way she’s gearing up for more questions.

“A mate you don’t know.” Spit out too forcefully as he tried to focus on two things at once.  _ im off work at 3  _ he types back.

_ I’m working from home tomorrow. Come over when you’re done.  _

“Fine. I’m just your mum, trying to hear  _ something _ about your life.” She huffs out, but Aaron can barely hear her, ears roaring as he stares at the words on his screen.

Robert asking Aaron to come to his.

Robert desperate for Aaron.

His fingers hover over the letters beneath them as he tries to imagine a reply.

_ I can’t forget the way you taste _

_ I need you too _

_ I miss you _

He doesn’t put any of them down. Too much, too needy. Nothing Robert needs to hear. 

_ see you then _ is all he settles on.

When he looks up, Chas has gone quiet and serious. She’s watching him carefully, small crease between her brows.

“What?” He bristles under the attention.

She shakes her head quickly, “Nothin’.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. “Say what you have ta say.”

“Just, haven’t seen you smile like that in a while.” Her eyes are soft.

That makes Aaron freeze.

“You’ve seemed… happier today.” She continues, voice uncertain and hopeful.

There’s a weighty silence hanging between them. An invitation for Aaron to fill in blanks Chas is currently building imaginary men for.

Aaron doesn’t feel like creating some figment of a man his mum can hang her hopes on.

So he gives.

“Haven’t hurt in a bit, that’s all.” He avoids her eyes, licking his lips. 

Her swift intake of breath makes him continue, “Don’t know what happened, maybe nothin, but I haven’t been…” 

He looks at his hands. 

“Haven’t felt the itch in a bit.” He mumbles, wishing words could describe it better.

It’s a strange relief to realize it’s true. 

He hasn’t thought about his back, not like he used to.

Hasn’t needed extra layers except against the cold.

Hasn’t felt the scream of nerves beneath his scapulae. 

He glances up at her and his mum’s eyes are wet with unshed tears, her chin wobbling. “Love, that’s wonderful.”

She’s up and hugging him before he can do anything, squashed between her and his chair. “It’s only been a bit, mum. Don’t think I’m cured or nothin’.”

Her sniff is amplified by the way she’s got her forehead against his temple, “Hush. I’m your mum. I get to be happy.”

That makes him huff out a laugh, “Yeah. Alright.”

When she pulls away she looks lighter somehow, like a load of fear she’s been carrying has been lightened.

They sit for a moment, just looking at each other, before she puts a hand on her hip and looks at him expectantly.

“So who’s this mate?”

The groan that pulls from Aaron might be audible in Leeds.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is in a hospital room. He’s exhausted and cold, his back bare in the hospital gown too big on his teen frame.

His face is dry and aching from the salt lines along his cheeks.

There’s so many marks on his arms, some from blood tests and IV lines, but the ones hidden beneath gauze are from his own nails tearing at the skin.

The doctors keep talking to Chas in hushed voices.

When he calls them on it they move outside, watching him with wan faces through the glass wall.

He looks down at his nails, clipped short and then filed even shorter when he arrived by someone while he’d been sedated.

He shifts in the bed, wincing at the combination of the aching itch he can’t remove and the slowly healing gouges he’d made trying.

The skin around his eyes aches. He can feel how red it must be.

_ He hates this dream. _

Later he’ll make promises to never do anything like this again. He’ll hold the pain inside, trying to shove it down, ignore it, drown it out in other ways.

Later he’ll sometimes lose whole minutes to the scream between his shoulder blades, but he’ll hold his mum’s face in his mind, the way she’d looked holding his hand when he’d woken up.

Later he’ll learn to function, sometimes almost forget the scratching at his spine, and build a life for himself.

Later he’ll find a man who makes the itch feel like a burn and like he can’t be in his own skin without touching his constellation-covered skin. 

_ He hates this dream. _

Aaron knows this all and is still stuck lying in the hospital bed watched by worried faces through the glass, and all he wants is to get out of this place.

Because he knows what happens next.

He knows his mum will nod at the doctor who has a hand on her shoulder.

He knows he’ll spend the next week under suicide watch, drugged until he’s senseless. Every moment muffled and cottony.

Except the itch will remain.

And at the end of it when they think he’s functioning, he’ll lie and smile and tell them it helped.

And he’ll promise to keep taking what they prescribe.

Until he finally gets a doctor who  _ hears _ him, and a counselor who  _ sees _ him.

And this is the moment right before all that, but Aaron knows it all, and it makes him feel like he’s about to be sick.

_ He hates this dream. _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron shows up at Robert’s at four. 

He swallows nervously at the concierge while they call up to Robert’s flat until they nod him through and let him know which floor to go to.

His stomach is in knots. Too much caffeine to keep him on task all day after a restless night of unhappy memories.

He pauses at the door, brass number plate reflecting his silhouette.

Robert must have been waiting, because the door flings open and Aaron’s dragged inside, the slam behind him barely registering as Robert’s lips press against his harshly, making Aaron’s hands clench at Robert’s dress shirt.

He opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, but is left gasping when Robert pulls away, “Wait. Fuck.” Robert’s voice is tight and breathy, “I have a Skype meeting in five minutes.”

Aaron frowns.

“I tried to move it, but she’s in meetings all day. It’s a check in. Just to see if I have any questions about our campaign. It’ll be two minutes, maximum.” The apology-less apology tumbles from Robert’s lips as he pulls Aaron with him towards a room Aaron knows is his bedroom.

Robert opens the door and presses a palm to Aaron’s chest. 

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Aaron’s about to complain when Robert leans in and presses a kiss to his mouth, soft and sweet and full of promise.

And just like that Robert’s ducking into his home office, leaving Aaron to feel out of sorts in a room he’s been in but never in this skin.

He stares at the bed, the way only one side is mussed, the other side impeccably tucked in. 

Chrissie’s fingerprints are all over the design. It’s classy and refined, nothing like the flat Robert had first lived in, the one that Aaron had dreamed about this week, every crack and hole in the wallpaper covered by found art.

Aaron had laughed against Robert’s shoulder at a Vespa helmet hung on a hook to cover a number of circular burns the last renter had left.

Robert had looked offended, said his mum always said homes should look like someone lived in them.

He shakes his head and unzips his hoodie, throwing it onto the chair in front of the vanity mirror and putting his shoes and socks at the foot of the bed.

And then he can’t look at the pressed and folded side of the bed anymore, so he lies on it, shoving an extra pillow onto the floor, wiggling a bit to wrinkle the sheets beneath the duvet.

Robert is true to his word, back in mere minutes, pausing in the frame of the door and letting his eyes travel across Aaron’s body hungrily.

Aaron tilts his chin up in a challenge. 

Robert rises to it, at the foot of the bed in steps, crawling over Aaron’s legs, surging forward to kiss him, biting teeth at Aaron’s lower lip, rucking up Aaron’s shirt and running nails across his bare stomach.

Aaron sinks into the plush mattress, letting Robert take the lead, feeling the shaking tension in his arms and shoulders, the way he’s holding himself taut.

Robert’s hand skims across his nipple, tweaking it roughly, making Aaron pull Robert’s dress shirt from where it’s tucked into his belt, hands needing to feel Robert’s skin.

“Robert.” He gasps out, feeling overwhelmed as Robert’s hands paint red prints across his chest, pressing into the thin skin across his sternum, searching for something.

Aaron’s mind reels as he feels Robert’s desperation.

He presses against Robert’s tense muscles under his palms.  _ I got you. _

Robert pushes back at Aaron’s thought, holding himself out of reach of Aaron’s lips, blinking down, lips red. 

Aaron reaches up, beginning to undo the buttons down Robert’s front, “Thought we had all night?”

Robert’s slow nod is rewarding, the controlled lean in, the lazy slide of his tongue against Aaron’s like honey. 

He’s got Robert’s shirt undone, shoved down his shoulders enough so that Robert has to sit up on his knees and shrug it off, giving Aaron time to lean up and pull his own off.

Robert looks down at him, eyes soft, barely there smile on his lips.

“Robert?” A woman’s voice echoes down the hallway and Aaron’s heart stops.

____________________________________


	22. Chapter 22

Robert is frozen above him, wrists still caught in his shirt.

_ Hide. _

“Didn’t know you were working from home, or I would’ve called up to save me a trip!” 

Sarah’s voice is closer, the tap of her cane on the ground approaching.

The door is wide open behind Robert, and suddenly he’s pushing off of Aaron’s chest, standing and frantically pulling his shirt back on, hands shaking.

“I just needed my evening medicines, Vic’s waiting outside.” 

A bundle of Aaron’s shirt and hoodie is shoved into his chest, Robert gesturing at the door Aaron knows leads to the bathroom.

He dashes to it, silently as he can, and sits down on the ground, the same place he’d sat in Robert’s panic attack weeks ago.

“Mum! Sorry, I was napping.” To Aaron’s ears Robert’s voice sounds breathy and panicked under the lacquer of calm.

Aaron can hear Sarah hum in assent. “Guess that’s one of the benefits of working from home.” Her voice sounds disapproving even through a wall.

His stomach is rolling, fear and lies bubbling up inside Aaron.

Robert’s laugh in response is self-deprecating and dry. “You know me.”

The implication hangs in the air. That Robert is lazy or distrustful or deceitful, and Aaron bites his tongue against it all.

The silence in response feels unending. 

_ Why isn’t she saying anything? _

“Are those new trainers?” Her question makes Aaron choke in a gasp, palm flat on the cold floor to center himself.

_ I thought I’d kicked them under the bed. _

“No, they’re old, just wear them when I need to pop out for a coffee, not exactly office-appropriate.” Robert lies so quickly it makes Aaron wince.

_ So easy. _

“Isn’t Vic waiting?” He says after another beat.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll just go grab what I need. Sorry to have disturbed your beauty sleep.” Sarah’s voice is more normal now, measured. 

Aaron tries to settle his beating heart. Maybe she doesn’t suspect anything. Maybe Robert’s diverted her well enough. 

He hears the tap of her cane and gentle steps head to the spare room, Robert’s voice softening as he follows. “Do you need anything else? Your slippers for while you’re watching the film?”

Aaron can’t make out the words Sarah replies with, but they sound fond.

_ I’d like to know her. _

It hits him hard, that realization.

He pushes it down. 

_ Robert would never… disappoint her like that. _

He pulls his legs closer to his body, bare chest suddenly cold. 

“When is Chrissie back?” Sarah’s voice cuts through his fog.

“Monday. We’ve got that appointment.” Aaron thinks he hears a tinge of regret in Robert’s voice.

“Good. We’ll have a night tomorrow. I want to watch Rocky Horror.” From Sarah’s voice it’s clear she’s smiling.

Robert’s sigh can be heard through two walls. “Mum.  _ Please _ . Anything else.”

Her giggle makes her sound younger. “Hush. Dying women get to watch all the trash they want without any of the gripes.”

Aaron can almost picture her wag of a finger at Robert. 

He smiles along with her.

“Frankenfurter is bisexual representation. You should like him!” The teasing in her voice makes Aaron’s heart skip.

“That’s not how…” Robert’s huff of annoyance makes it clear this is a well-trodden argument. “Fine. But no singing.”

Aaron can barely make out her offended gasp as they move past the door again.

He listens, and can just make out the shutting door.

He doesn’t move.

He waits.

Lets Robert make the move.

Robert’s footsteps come down the hall slower than Aaron would expect.

Robert opens the bathroom door, illuminated from behind, making Aaron blink. His shirt is buttoned most of the way, one at the top undone, but it’s untucked and wrinkled.

Aaron’s on the ground, still shirtless, back against the bathtub.

They look at each other in silence.

“You kicking me out, then?” Aaron finally manages, head tilted, trying to figure out where Robert’s mind is.

“No.” Aaron can’t quite read Robert’s tone, so he just watches the man, neck tight as he stares up.

Robert crouches down, wrists on his knees, and holds Aaron’s gaze. 

“You might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” His voice isn’t harsh, just a statement.

Aaron doesn’t know what to do with that. His mouth falls open in anger, rebuttal on his tongue, but Robert surges forward, knees hitting the hard floor to either side of Aaron’s feet, and closes the gap between them.

Aaron can’t help but notice he tastes like pain, not regret.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s trying to leave, but he’s pressed up against Robert’s kitchen countertops, Robert’s hands on his hips, tongue licking a path along Aaron’s neck.

“Robert, god.” He gasps out, hating how wrecked he sounds.

He can feel the sly smile against his skin. “Yeah?”

Aaron hates him.

“Unless you want a repeat of this afternoon, I have to  _ go _ .” Aaron tries to reason with him, even as his hands grip Robert’s arms, pulling him closer.

That stills the mouth on his collar.

Aaron hates that, even as he knows he shouldn’t.

Robert doesn’t pull back, just pauses, and then increases the pressure on Aaron’s skin, sucking a mark to the thin skin stretched across the bone beneath.

It’s possessive and hypocritical and Aaron tilts his head back to allow better access because he wants it.

_ Mine,  _ is screamed into his skin, and it makes Aaron shiver, fingers gripping the muscles underneath his hands, trying with every fiber of his being to silence the voice inside him saying  _ yes. _

Robert pulls back, seemingly satisfied with the bruise forming on Aaron’s skin.

“Wednesday?” He pants against Aaron’s lips.

Aaron nods, hating how eager he knows he looks. 

_ Just four days. _

Robert steps back, and Aaron feels like he can fully inhale, but the oxygen was richer from Robert’s mouth. Robert pulls up the zip of Aaron’s hoodie, hands lingering, eyes full of laughter.

He’s out the door before he can let himself lean back in, chase Robert’s lips for more.

He pauses in the hall, pressing a hand to the wall, rolling his neck, wanting nothing more than to turn around, knock on the door, pull Robert back to the plush bed and curl around him.

He calms in the walk down the stairs, pressing fingers to his lips, feeling the way they’re pink from use.

Exiting the stairs he comes face to face with Sarah Sugden.

“Oh!” She’s off balance, and he reaches out and catches her easily.

_ Too easy, she’s so small. _

“Aaron, right?” She looks at him, eyes bright and intelligent, “From the hospital?”

Aaron nods, letting her go, shoving his hands into his pockets, pulling the hoodie lower. 

She smiles, eyes flicking to his neck, and winks. “Guess you’re over the doctor?” 

Aaron feels like he’s pinned to a wall, like his mum just found him sneaking out to meet some lad up at the cricket pavilion, and he opens his mouth to give an excuse he knows won’t hold water.

She must see his panic, because she pats him on the shoulder, “Never liked him much.”

Aaron smiles shakily, “Thanks, me neither.”

She nods and steps back, looking down to place her cane. 

Aaron knows he isn’t imagining the way she freezes.

He looks down, sees the trainers on his feet, and squeezes his eyes shut.  _ Idiot. _

She looks back up, face more assessing, jaw tight, eyes stormy.

_ So that’s where Robert got that look. _

Aaron steels himself for an accusation, but she says nothing, just looks at him, like she expects something from him.

He hunches his shoulders, gives up on meeting her eyes, and steps back, “I’ve got to get home.”

She doesn’t reply, and when he makes it to the door, she’s still there, watching him go.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s in his spot in the caf, hands curled around a massive cup of tea, blinking blearily. He’d tried to stay up later, avoiding Robert, and had woken up early to go for a run.

Which even as he did it felt like madness, running away from his  _ own _ dreams.

Anaysha is busy, but she’s come over to chat a couple times, even convinced him to upgrade his water to a smoothie so he’ll replenish after the run.

It’s sitting in his stomach, too sweet and cold.

He knows the moment Robert enters, and it makes him turn.

Sarah’s with him, arm in his, cane in her other hand.

Robert’s eyes find him immediately, lips opening slightly in surprise.

Sarah sees him too, even as he pulls up his hood. 

She pats Robert on the shoulder, pointing at Aaron, and pulls her arm from his, pointing up at something on the board. Robert’s eyes are wide as she turns to Aaron.

She walks over slowly, and Aaron has a moment of indecision before he stands and reaches out, helps her find a table where she can sit comfortably in a plush chair.

He internally groans when the only one open is right next to his.

“Running into each other again!” She says, voice light and happy. “You’d think Manchester would feel a bit less like Emmerdale.”

Robert looks like he’s narrowly avoiding a stroke, and Aaron’s throat has gone dry, so he takes a sip of tea.

“Guess so. We’re near my work.” He says, trying to come up with an easy way to leave.

And then Anaysha comes over with his fry up. 

“Extra toast. For my favorite.” She jokes, hip checking his shoulder.

And Aaron has no choice but to pick up his fork. 

“How’ve you been?” He asks, around a bite of beans, trying to will Robert over, but there’s a line, and Robert looks to be waiting on his order while Anaysha makes it.

Sarah laughs, “You know, I never quite know how to answer that.” 

Aaron can help but smile at her candor. “S’pose that makes sense.”

“What do you do?” She asks, and Aaron suddenly feels like he’s in an interview he’s already failing.

_ Nothing fancy, nothing that’ll take me to London for openings and have buildings with concierges and an espresso maker on the counter. _

He isn’t ashamed of what he does, but he knows it’s not glamorous. “Mechanic.” 

She nods, “Any good?”

He shrugs, “Owner trusts me, no customer complaints.” 

_ Except Robert, but only for a bit. _

“And your mum? You visit home often?” She presses.

He nods, “Every week or so. Try and help out.” He clears his throat and takes a bite of sausage.

She shifts in her chair, pinch of pain at the corners of her eyes, and it makes Aaron’s heart ache.

Robert comes over, two steaming mugs in his hands, “Here you go.” 

He leans to put the mug down in front of Sarah, then places his own down too fast, spilling hot coffee onto his hand and hissing in pain.

Aaron reaches out, napkin in hand, and presses it to the spill, frozen for a moment too long, then pulls back quickly as if he’d the one been burned.

“Thanks.” Robert says softly, eyes down on the red across the back of his hand.

_ Always. _

“No problem.” Aaron doesn’t have any other answer.

He looks up to see Sarah sipping her mug and watching them, so he returns to his plate, trying to give them space.

“I was just talking to Aaron about his garage.” She says, and Robert stiffens.

“Oh?” He turns to Aaron, who shrugs helplessly.

Robert’s lip quirks up, “Did he tell you that right after he fixed my car it broke down?”

Sarah’s eyes are laughing, “He told me he’s had no complaints!”

Aaron cuts in, “We fixed it!”

“Right, was that before or after I was stranded?” Robert nudges him with his elbow.

“I think it were right after I saved your life?” Aaron pretends to think, finger on his chin.

Robert’s eyes go wide, mouth open.

Aaron turns to Sarah, “He fainted. In the middle of the road.”

Robert puts out a placating hand, stopping Sarah’s look of worry, “Just a migraine, mum.”

“And he’s fine now. Doctors gave him the all clear.” Aaron assures her, looking at Robert’s profile for longer than he should.

Robert blushes lightly when he catches him, “And the nurse gave Aaron  _ her _ number.”

Sarah gasps theatrically, smile on her face, and leans in, “Now this I  _ have _ to hear.”

____________________________________


	23. Chapter 23

Aaron’s not quite sure how it happened, but one minute Sarah was talking about how she needed ingredients for dinner, and Robert was protesting that they could just order in, and the next, Aaron was  _ offering to help with the shop. _

Robert had gaped, but Sarah had studied him for a second before smiling softly and nodding.

So Aaron finds himself in the pasta section, holding a basket while Robert and Sarah argue the merits of different shapes.

They’d both scoffed at him when he’d said he thought they all tasted pretty much the same, so now he’s just sort of watching as Robert rubs the bridge of his nose and points at something that looks like rice but is labelled ‘orzo.’

Aaron allows himself a moment to look at Robert, both of them so distracted by the debate that he doesn’t think Sarah will catch him.

_ Not that she doesn’t already know. _

He’s got more spirit to him than he’s had in Aaron’s dreams recently. A little pink in his cheeks and a smile at the edges of his lips.

Sarah pokes him in the chest, and Robert winces, making as if she’d wounded him.

_ Once when Robert was five he told his mum that he wanted to marry a boy from school because the boy had the best sheep and nice grazing land.  _

_ She’d smiled and tapped his cheek, “Already thinking like a farmer. Marrying for herds.”  _

_ Jack had twisted his mouth in displeasure, “Stop encouraging the boy.” _

_ Sarah hadn’t even looked at him, keeping her eyes on Robert, “There’s no need to have a marriage just for a lamb. No matter how much you love them.” _

“Aaron?” Robert’s voice drags him from the memory, one he doesn’t even recognize.

He shakes it off, and Robert’s eyes ask him a silent question. 

_ Everything alright? _

He nods jerkily, blinking away the image of Jack’s disappointed face.

Sarah has her back to them, and Aaron catches the way Robert keeps a corner of his eye on her as he steps in, fingers brushing Aaron’s elbow, closer than how mates should stand. 

It makes him swallow, the way Robert’s tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip.

Robert’s arm comes up, and Aaron wants to lean into it, wants it on his cheek, has this wild moment when he thinks Robert’s about to—

He passes over his shoulder, returning with a glass jar of little green things in his hand.

“You were right in front of the capers.” Robert says, and Aaron can feel his breath he’s so close.

He’s shocked by the slight impact of the jar in the basket, awkwardly tightening his grip as Robert’s eyes laugh at him as the other man steps back.

Sarah meets his eyes over her son’s shoulder, and Aaron can’t read her expression.

They make their ways to the tills, Robert either truly or willfully oblivious to his mother watching Aaron like she has a mouth full of questions.

Aaron almost wishes she’d ask them.

“Think you’ve got enough?” He asks to cover his discomfort, nodding down at the full basket in his hands, at the over-full one next to Robert’s ankle.

Sarah nods, “Plenty for tonight and tomorrow, then leftovers for the week.”

“Much as I wish I could have your lasagne, I’ve got the tasting tomorrow, mum.” Robert says, unthinking as he riffles through the chocolates placed for impulse buyers with a sweet-tooth.

_ Tasting. _

That word makes Aaron’s heart stutter.

They haven’t talked about it.

The wedding.

Sarah looks at him with something in her eye, something like pity.

_ Fooling yourself by playing family. _

Aaron grips the handle in his hand tight and stares at the floor.

He knows he’s on borrowed time before all  _ this _ becomes, well, not impossible, but harder.

Robert must notice the shift in the air, because when he reaches out for the basket in Aaron’s hand he lingers, fingers on Aaron’s for too long apology in their pressure.

Aaron pulls his hand back, making Robert catch the basket clumsily.

“I’ve got to go, forgot my mate needs help changing his oil.” He grits out, looking everywhere but Robert.

He shoves hands into his hoodie, feeling the grind of his teeth against each other. 

“Aaron—” Robert tries, but Aaron’s already backing up, bumping into the man behind them.

“It was nice seeing you again, Sarah.” He manages, trying to keep emotions out of his voice.

She nods, putting a hand on Robert’s arm, and he’s so grateful that she understands. “You too, Aaron. Say hi to your mum for me.”

He shrugs a yes and leaves as fast as he can without running.

____________________________________

  
  


He needs normal.

Uncomplicated.

So he texts Adam.

Being greeted by a pint, a mate, and a handful of darts makes Aaron feel like he’s anchored again.

“It’s my best friend!” Adam yells to the mostly quiet pub, leaning on one elbow as if he’s sharing a secret with Bill. 

Bill laughs, wiping down the glass in his hand, “Thought he were imaginary with how much he’s been ‘round recently.”

Aaron rolls his eyes and takes a sip, “Not all of us live in a pub.”

Bill looks shocked, hand on chest. “ _ Above _ , Aaron. I live above a pub. And that doesn’t explain how you disappeared like you did.”

Aaron frowns, trying to remember the last time he’d been out. He’s shocked to realize he can’t.

Adam’s pat on his shoulder makes him turn, “We were leaving a pint out each night hoping you’d come by.”

His grin is wide, and Aaron good-naturedly shrugs off the hand. “Shut up.”

Adam laughs, head thrown back. “That’s it! The man we love.” He slaps Aaron’s arm.

Aaron covers his smile with a sip.

He’s getting absolutely trounced by Adam, missing the board, shots flying wide. Adam has been sneaking him more and more worried looks, victory cheers quieting. 

Adam’s clearly working his way towards some big question, Aaron can practically see it forming in his brain.

So he puts the darts down and props himself on the bar, mid-back against the wood, elbows braced, and opens his hands. “Go on.”

Adam’s eyes widen.

“You’re itching to ask me something. Get on with it so I can mount my comeback.” He tilts his head at the board.

Adam puts his pint down, and suddenly Aaron’s worried. 

“It’s just—” Adam sighs, “You’d tell me if something were up, yeah?”

Aaron frowns.

“Your mum called me. Said you seemed…” Adam gestures, “Happier?”

Aaron can’t help but roll his eyes. “And that’s cause for an intervention is it?”

“Come off it, Aaron. She wanted to know what was happening, and I didn’t have any answers for her.” Adam says, “Couldn’t tell her I hadn’t  _ seen _ you in weeks, and that I’ve barely heard from you.”

Aaron goes to open his mouth, but Adam cuts him off. “Last time we hung out you were all heartbroken over some married bloke.” 

Aaron tries to school his face into something resembling normal.

Adam deflates, “You didn’t.”

“What?”

“Mate. He’s  _ married _ .”

Aaron straightens to face his friend, “He’s not.”

The look of surprise is rewarding, “He ended it?”

Aaron looks at the ground.

“You mean he’s not married  _ yet _ .” Adam’s voice is disappointed.

Aaron steps to pass him, to leave, run from this.

Adam catches his arm, holding him there. “Mate, I’m sorry.”

Aaron closes his eyes.

When Adam’s arms wrap around him he’s not surprised, he can hear the other man move, but he does tense for a moment before giving into the hug. 

“You don’t deserve to be messed around like that.” Adam says when he steps back.

“He’s not. It’s…” Aaron rubs a thumb over his eyebrow. “It’s hard to explain.”

Adam considers him, then picks up his pint and gestures to the table by the dartboard. “Give it a try.”

Aaron licks his lips.  _ What could it hurt? _

He nods, then moves to the bench. Adam takes a step with him, then turns and picks up Aaron’s glass too, handing it to him.

“Ta.” Aaron mumbles. He sits, sifting through the story, trying to think of a single thing he can say without sounding like he’s mad.

_ I met him in my dreams.  _

“I don’t expect him to leave her.” Tumbles out instead.

_ He understands me. _

Adam’s jaw tightens.

“If you’re gonna judge I’m leaving.” Aaron points at him. “No one’s a saint here.” 

Adam’s hands go up in surrender, “Shutting up.”

Aaron looks at the grain on the table before him, tracing it as he tries to think.

_ He’s a nightmare, but he makes me feel whole. _

“We met when he brought in his car.” Aaron starts. “We, ya know.” He gestures awkwardly. 

“He wasn’t engaged then.” He looks up at Adam. “That happened after.”

Adam nods.

“And then… it just sort of kept happening. He’d call or I’d message him, and…” Aaron scrapes the edge of the table top with his nail. “I didn’t mean for…”

Adam is silent.

“It’s different. With him.” Aaron grates out. “I can’t explain it.”

Aaron looks up, and his friend’s eyes are full of concern. 

“I’m not fooling myself, Ads. I know where I stand.”

“Then why?” Adam asks, searching Aaron’s face for the answer Aaron doesn’t want to give. “What’s so special about him?”

Aaron looks back at the grain, tracking it with his eyes.

Aaron can almost feel the moment the truth Aaron can’t even let himself say hits Adam.

“Do you love him?”

Aaron doesn’t speak.

He can’t even let himself nod.

Any admission feels too much.

He’s never been more happy in his choice of best mates than in that silence that follows. Adam lets him sit, just for a moment, then moves over across the distance between them and pulls him into a one-armed hug.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron wakes up with a start, pulled out of sleep by a cry.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s Robert who’s been woken up.

Robert’s heart is hammering in his chest.

He throws off the duvet, “Mum?”

“Robert!” Her voice sounds  _ wrong _ , and immediately Aaron’s heart is racing right along with Robert’s.

Robert’s in the spare room in a blink. 

Sarah’s on the ground by the bed, tangled in sheets.

“I—” She hisses out in pain, “I fell, and I can’t get up.” She pushes up with one arm from the floor.

Robert’s hands are shaking as he reaches out, cradling arms below his mother, lifting her back onto the bed, half sitting on the edge of the mattress as he puts her closer to the middle. 

_ She’s so small.  _ Aaron doesn’t know which of them thought that.

She sighs when she’s back flat, squeezing her face tight, looking up at the ceiling.

“Mum.” Robert’s voice sounds thick, and Aaron can feel the way his throat is tight with pain. “I should call the doctor.”

She shakes her head, hand patting him on the knee. “People fall, Robert.”

She turns her head and looks at him, her smile strained even in the near dark of the room. “I seem to remember you hanging by an ankle in some obstacle course just to impress some boy.” 

Robert tries to laugh, but it’s mostly exhale. 

“My balance is shot. I had a bad dream and got tangled in my sheets. That’s  _ all _ .” Aaron can see the lies in the way she’s holding herself, the pain in the bags under her eyes.

Robert ignores them.

“I’m just not used to such tightly tucked in corners.” She aims for joking, hand on his knee gentle. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Mum, don’t.” Robert’s lip is quivering. “It’s fine. I’m  _ fine _ .”

She sighs, pushing herself up, and Robert puts a pillow behind her back. 

She’s frowning, illuminated by the light in the hall.

Robert’s mind is cycling through what he could have done to make her look like that.

“Your da and I…” She starts, and Robert’s stomach drops, hands clenching at the mattress beneath them. “We didn’t—”

She looks to the wall, searching for words. “I don’t think we loved each other enough.”

Robert opens his mouth.

“And he  _ certainly _ didn’t love you enough.” She cuts him off, squeezing at his knee.

_ My dad didn’t want a son like me. _ Aaron feels the bile down to his bones.

It falls silent for a beat until Robert replies quietly. “You did, though.”

She smiles lopsidedly, “I did. I still  _ do _ .” 

“But what I’m trying to tell you is,” She reaches out and catches his chin, making her look into her eyes, “I don’t think I gave you a good idea of love. It’s not all like that.”

Robert nods, and her fingers tighten slightly.

“And sometimes, people get married for the wrong reasons.”

Aaron can feel the gaping pit in Robert’s stomach, the way his mouth goes dry.

Sarah raises her hand to cut off any reply.

“You deserve to be happy, Robert. I want you to choose what makes  _ you _ happy.” She frowns at him, holding his gaze.

Robert can’t make himself speak, so he nods again.

She softens, letting go of his chin and leaning back. “Think on it.”

“I will.” Robert promises.

Her eyes are falling shut, shoulders relaxing.

He pulls the cover up for her, and walks out, a tempest in his chest that makes Aaron feel sick. 

____________________________________


	24. Chapter 24

Aaron’s in a small room lying on a mattress of sorts. The floor is hard-packed dirt, and the ceiling is low above him. He can smell hay, the wet-sweet scent clinging in his nose. 

It’s impossibly dark, no real windows in the room, just a small circle of light above where the roof ends. The stars outside are more numerous than Aaron’s seen even on the clearest nights in Emmerdale.

He’s cold, even with the fur he can feel piled onto him.

There’s no one else in the room, no other breaths, no shifts in the layers.

It doesn’t feel right. This body  _ knows _ there’s meant to be someone at his back. The aching pain of loneliness radiating through his spine.

He turns onto his back, arm reaching out for someone he knows isn’t there.

Aaron tries to feel if this version of him has searched.

But the world outside is harsh, and his village remote. They’d lost too many in the last winter, coughing and fever spreading fast.

The wet way his chest feels when he inhales is a gift from those hard times.

In spring he’ll take a woman, try and warm the hut again after his mother never woke up.

_ Maybe she will fill the space he knows is empty.  _

Even as he thinks it, he knows she won’t.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron catches himself wanting to message Robert, fingers hovering on the keys until he remembers where the other man is.

Getting ready to taste menus for his  _ wedding _ .

Aaron just barely keeps himself from throwing his phone into the ground, furious with himself for the spike of viscous jealousy that flares.

He closes his eyes against the fury, clenching hands into tight fists until his palm aches from the bite of his nails.

He throws himself into his work, checking and double-checking every detail of the cars he’s given.

He even volunteers to drive a delivery over to Nick’s for Mark, needing more time away from the gaping loneliness of his apartment, from the hole in his life he’s only noticed since Robert.

Mark seems to understand, patting him on the shoulder and telling him to grab tea with Nick for his trouble.

“I assume you’ll tell him to expect me?” Aaron says, rolling his eyes as he shifts boxes into his car.

Mark waves him off, “Family gets to walk in.”

Aaron sends a text on the way.

Aaron likes Nick’s wife Siobhan. She’s no-nonsense in the way his mum is sometimes, but she doesn’t pry, just sets her mouth into a purse when she’s displeased.

She’s over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, making Nick look diminutive, and sometimes the way he looks at her makes Aaron feel like an intruder.

Once, loose lipped from whiskey, he’d told Aaron that she’s the woman of his dreams. “She knows all of me!” He’d crowed, eyes bright. “Every bit.”

Aaron tucks himself into a wooden chair in their kitchen, watching their easy push and pull, the way Nick knows when to refill her glass, or pass her a spoon.

Nick smiles over his shoulder at Aaron as he chops a carrot, “How’s my no-good brother? He hasn’t been around much lately.”

Aaron shrugs, “Seems fine.”

Siobhan’s voice is always surprisingly soft, forcing people to listen carefully, “Nick was thinkin’ he’s got a girlfriend.”

Aaron sips at his beer, “Not as far as I know.”

He feels a strange wash of guilt, a prickling voice in his mind,  _ Not that you’d have noticed, so wrapped up in your problems. Selfish. _

Nick shakes his head sadly, “He’ll never meet anyone if he just stays in that garage all the time.”

Siobhan’s eyes cut to her husband, “You’re one to talk.” She gestures at the floor towards the garage below.

“Well, yes, but on me it’s charming and the sign of a good provider.” He smiles at her, tucking the curl that had come loose back behind her ear before it falls into the pot. 

Nick passes her the tiny squares of orange, carrot perfectly diced in a way Aaron can’t quite imagine managing. 

She slips aside artfully, letting just enough space so he won’t get burned or jostle her.

Nick leans on the counter, looking at Aaron. “I just want him happy.”

Siobhan reaches out and Nick puts a pepper grinder in her palm.

Aaron sips again, looking meaningfully at the bottle of whiskey the two brothers have been stealing from each other for as long as he’s known them. Some weird game they’ve been playing for decades.

Nick frowns. “Not  _ that _ happy.”

Aaron shrugs, shaking his head.

As they plate up the chicken stew Aaron can’t help but ache a bit for the easy intimacy of their marriage. The simple division of labor, the silent understanding of who will get the cutlery and who will bring out napkins.

The first time he’d been over he’d been told they didn’t let other people help. Siobhan, hand on hip, letting Aaron know that she appreciated his offer, but he’d be in the way.

Seeing how the move in sync he’d believed her.

“Eat.” She said, placing a bowl in front of him.

He nods a thanks. “Looks great.”

She shrugs, grabbing a slice of grilled bread and dunking it into her bowl, “Glad to have company to help eat it. I’ll send you home with some.”

Aaron’s chest warms at her silent generosity. 

He’s always liked how Nick eats like he can’t hear anything around him, like it’s the only thing on his mind. 

_ He’d needed that early on, too skinny and broke, barely scraping by as he worked to repay the bolted door he’d jammed when he broke in. _

_ Siobhan had taken to giving Nick two lunches, sandwiches piled high with meat, and Nick had silently slid one to Aaron, shrugging and nodding towards the stairs to their flat. “I’ll never hear the end of it if I bring it home.” _

_ Unwilling to push his luck, Aaron had shaken his head. “I’m alright, ta.” _

_ “Seriously. She’ll scold me even while we’re sleeping. Just eat it. Growing lad like you needs it more than me.” _

Aaron smiles into his bowl at the memory.

When they’re done Nick and Siobhan look at eachother, until Nick sags and stands, “Yeah yeah I know.”

He picks up the plates and begins moving them to the sink, and Aaron can’t keep the frown off his face.

Siobhan tilts her head, “It’s his turn. Plus, I cooked.”

Aaron nods.

“I’ll get you a container.” She says, standing, and brings her husband the remaining plates, hand brushing over his shoulder softly as he hums.

Aaron squeezes his eyes shut against the ache he feels.

_ You can’t have that. _

_ You don’t get that. _

_ He doesn’t want that.  _

_ Least, not with  _ you _. _

He pushes his hands against the table, standing quickly, jostling his thankfully empty bottle, but it topples and makes enough of a sound that the moment between them is broken, and Siobhan is filling a container with stew.

She pushes the still-warm package into his hands, waving off his thanks, and tells him to give it to Mark when it’s clean. “It’ll make him come by. His brother worries.”

He nods, throat still tight.

“Come by next week. It’s Nick’s birthday.”

Aaron’s hands are occupied, and his hoodie is slipping off his shoulders, and he’s thinking about what to buy, and Siobhan’s eyes are laughing.

“Just bring yourself.” She tilts her head, looking at him closely, glancing at his neck, and he blushes remembering the bruise kissed there. “And anyone else you might want to.”

Aaron swallows at the thought of bringing Robert somewhere.

Of introducing him.

He colors, looking down at the stew. “Not exactly got someone you bring to parties.”

He likes the way she smiles, like she gets it. “Well, offer stands.”

He nods, and heads home.

Opening the door, stew still in hand, he feels like the emptiness is expanding before him.

Aaron knows logically his flat is small, that it’s only a few rooms, but they feel cavernous and hungry. Needing more than Aaron to fill them.

He sighs against his counter, pulling out his phone, and stares at Robert’s name for longer than he’d like to admit.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron wakes up to the buzz of his phone.

_ Can you get the day off tomorrow? _

It’s three in the morning, and Aaron just stares at the words.

They send a thrill through his chest, but he has a  _ job _ . One that doesn’t just let him skive off for no reason. He’s not some toy Robert can pick up and put down.

But his bed is too big and the room is echoing silence around him, and Robert’s awake.

Robert wants to see him.

_ why,  _ is all he types back.

The response is fast, he can almost see it: Robert lying next to her _ ,  _ brightness on low, awake but trying not to wake the woman beside him.

_ I need to see you. _

The honesty of it makes Aaron’s chest warm.

He lies on his back, phone above him, thinking about what he’s got on at the garage.

_ i can leave early. 1?  _ He’s sure Mark will be annoyed, but he can’t bring himself to care.

_ Yours? _

Aaron closes his eyes, imagining the sprawl of Robert on his sheets.

_ yeah. _

_ I’ll be there.  _ He can almost hear Robert’s growl, the self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Aaron’s blood is hot, pulse racing, body ready to feel Robert again.

He puts the phone face down, and sighs in frustration, arm beneath the pillow.

It takes a long time of him staring at the blackness behind his lids before he falls back asleep.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron’s rushing through the morning. He knows it, but he can’t bring himself to care.

His pulse is thrumming.

_ Robertrobertrobertrobertrobert. _

He can’t quite keep his mind on the tasks in front of him, oil changes feeling like they’re taking ages, coolants getting on his hands and making him wash them again.

The machines under his hands are new and unfamiliar, his hands wishing surface he touches had freckles and golden hair.

He’s trying to find the leak in a piece of tubing when Mark yells from the office. “Aaron!”

He puts the rubber down, frowning at it as he straightens, wiping his hands on his thighs. “Yeah?”

The response is lost to his ears when he sees Sarah Sugden leaning in the doorway.

“Sarah? Is everything alright?” He knows he fails at keeping the fear from his face as he walks over. 

“Is Robert—” He stops himself when she raises her hand.

He turns to the office, trying to school his face into something normal. “Mark, I’ll be back.” 

The concern in his boss’s eyes is evident, “Take what you need.”

Aaron steps outside, following Sarah’s slow gait, rubbing his hands against his sides, waiting for her to speak.

She looks around, spotting a bench and sinks onto it.

“My son made me breakfast today.” She says.

Aaron blinks, trying to find the meaning to her words.

She frowns, “For his whole, life Robert’s been a bear to get out of bed.”

Something in Aaron hoards that fact, pushing it into his Robert box and bundling it up.

“And today he woke up before me.” She pats the bench next to her. 

He sits. 

She continues, “He told Chrissie he has meetings all afternoon.”

Aaron flinches, looking at the stains of black in the creases of his hands. 

“Knowing my Robert…” She sighs. “I somehow doubt that’s the case.”

Aaron swallows, still avoiding her eyes.

He can feel her watching him.

“You seem like a good man, Aaron.” That makes him look up in shock, eyes wide.

Her smile is sad, “I didn’t raise an honest son, but I hope he’s not cruel.”

Excuses pile up in Aaron’s throat, jumbled together nonsense.

_ I know him. I know what I’m getting into. _

“I’m alright.” Is all he manages.

The frown that crosses her face is fleeting, but Aaron sees it. 

“Really.” He tries to assure her, “I am.”

Whatever she sees in his face must be enough, because she reaches for her cane, and moves to stand. Aaron steps in, helping her find her balance.

She waves him off quickly, then gestures to the garage. “You’ve got a lot on, got to get working if you’re going to finish on time.”

Aaron’s pulse races, the strange feeling of being caught. It feels thrilling and freeing, like an animal he’s not able to contain has burst free and now he can see its power.

He thinks of Robert, of the lines he’s drawn between everything, and wonders what he would do if he knew Sarah knew.

He turns to her, “Are you going to tell him?”

She shakes her head, “He’s stubborn as an ass. It would only make him dig in.”

She stands there, face thoughtful, watching Aaron.

“He’s got to make his own choices.” 

Her shoulders rise and fall as she stares at Aaron.

“I hope he makes good ones.”

Aaron just nods in agreement.

____________________________________


	25. Chapter 25

The way Robert’s chest feels pressed against Aaron’s back centers something in him. 

He can’t keep himself from tilting his head forward, pressing his forehead into the pillow, muffling the small cry of joy.

Robert’s palms are on the back of Aaron’s hands, fingers interlocked with Aaron’s, his lips pressed to Aaron’s nape.

It’s a marvel each time, the perfect way they fit together.

Robert eventually pulls back, lets air rush between them, chilling Aaron’s back as the sweat cools. 

_ It feels wrong. _ Aaron’s whole being shouts at him, hand going up, pulling Robert back, slotting them back together, encouraging Robert’s arms to wrap around him, curling his back so they’re pressed skin to skin.

Robert must feel it too, because he tightens his hold, the bridge of his nose rubbing along the short hairs at the base of Aaron’s skull, soft exhales licking against Aaron’s scalp.

Robert’s used to vast miles of space, to Chrissie pushing off his chest, nose wrinkling, complaints about how Robert kicks her in his sleep.

Aaron doesn’t question how he knows that, just feels the forearm under his, the thin skin of his pulse pressed to the bumps of Robert’s wrist bones. 

He feels the heavier sigh tickle the hair at his temples, the way Robert’s chest caves in a little as he settles, drawing Aaron closer.

He closes his eyes, inhales slow, smells Robert’s cologne mixed with their sweat and come.

He should feel smothered. Caged in by the strong arms around him, back against a wall of heat.

He’s pushed men out of bed when they tuck themselves under his arm after a fuck, stubble or hair itching his skin, tacky sweat sticking them together, pulling uncomfortably.

He’d swatted away the searching hand of an early boyfriend, hating the warmth between his fingers, the grate of bones as they accommodate invasive digits.

But Robert doesn’t feel like an imposition. 

He feels like he’s always been there, at Aaron’s back, soothing the itch and burn, igniting something deep inside him.

Aaron can feel the beat of Robert’s heart against his shoulder blade.

He can feel the thrum of his pulse like two brands across his ribs, freckled wrists pressing into his skin.

Their chests are expanding and contracting in matched rhythms.

He doesn’t need to check his own pulse to know it’s a mirror of Robert’s.

He squeezes his eyes tighter, trying to catalogue every inch of skin that can feel Robert, every sensation and smell and  _ taste _ of him.

_ It’s not enough.  _

Aaron feels the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, bubbling exhaustion in his chest.

He knows in a few minutes Robert is going to let his arms go slack, slowly disentangle himself from Aaron, pulling himself out of bed and picking the evidence of his presence from the floor. He’ll move through Aaron’s home, leaving in his wake a void that’ll fill dark corners, creeping ever closer while Aaron sleeps.

Until he comes back, golden and shining, illuminating the nooks and crannies, patching and repairing and lacquering over any cracks.

There’s always more.

Aaron breaks things, he trips and scuffs and spills. He  _ thinks _ at shadows until they animate.

Something sickly and deep simmers in his center. 

_ You’re pathetic. _ It whispers, hissing and slithering.  _ Needy. Withering without him. _

Aaron wishes he had a reply that felt like the truth.

Robert’s arms tighten, pulling Aaron back from inside himself. 

Pushing away the voice until he’s alone and aching for Robert.

“You alright?” The murmur is so low Aaron feels it more than hears it.

He nods, knowing that the way Robert’s pressed up against him he can feel the response.

Robert’s arms shift, palms reading Aaron’s lie of omission, letting it slide in favor of smoothing across his stomach, fingers trailing teasingly across his abdomen, making Aaron bite back an involuntary giggle.

“Ticklish?” Robert smiles against his shoulder, laughter in his voice. 

Aaron’s breath hitches tellingly, and Robert is suddenly in motion, moving so Aaron falls onto his back, a gasp on his lips. Robert’s above him, knees on either side of his hips, sitting on Aaron’s thighs, teeth bared in a predatory smile.

“A hard man like you?” Robert trails his fingers lightly across Aaron’s torso, feathers of touch making him tense and swallow down a smile. 

Aaron squirms under him, blush rising to his cheeks. “Stop, Robert.”

Robert’s touch gets firmer, pressing more, less teasing, as he leans down, hovering above Aaron’s lips, a quirk to his own, “I won’t tell.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, hands fumbling for Robert’s wrists to push him away or pull him in, but Robert’s quicker, fingers dancing across his rib and pulling a huff of laughter from Aaron’s chest.

Robert’s eyes shine with victory, “You are!”

Aaron tries to roll his hips up, to dislodge Robert, but he’s braced, and Aaron wishes he weren’t trying to stifle laughter because it’s making moving harder.

Robert’s hands are  _ everywhere _ .

Aaron’s cheeks hurt from holding in the smile, even as he lightly fends off the playful attacks, and when Robert finds a place that makes him nearly squawk, he knows he’s not hiding it any more.

Robert stops then, and Aaron settles, looking up at him, smile still on his face, not trusting the reprieve.

Robert’s face is open and relaxed. His hair is askew, and he’s backlit a bit by the light bouncing from the window. Aaron wants to reach up, smooth a short tuft of sun kissed hair back down, so it lies flat the way Robert likes it.

There’s something in his eyes that keeps Aaron silent, just holding his gaze, trying to get his breathing back under control.

Robert leans in, soft and slow, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth, to where the smile meets his cheek.

The quiet softness of it punches out a gasp from Aaron’s chest.

Robert pulls back, but not far, eyes bright and mouth slightly open like he’s searching for an answer to an unasked question. 

Aaron can’t keep himself from asking, “What was that for?”

He regrets it when he sees Robert’s eyes shutter, the openness gone, and Aaron wants to fumble his way back to the moment before, but Robert cuts him off with a kiss, harsher than the last, searing against his lips.

Aaron surrenders, letting Robert lick into his mouth, hands coming up to clutch at Robert’s hip bones.

He’s certain Robert doesn’t mean to think it aloud, but he hears it.

_ I wanted to taste your smile. _

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron would recognize the Emmerdale cemetery anywhere. 

He stares at the stones, wondering why he’s here. There’s distant family buried here. Dingles scattered all over, but no one he knows well.

It’s silent for a while, no wind, just the kind of chill Emmerdale gets sometimes, even in the summer.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking around again, and Robert’s now standing a bit away from where he is, staring at a grave.

Aaron walks over cautiously, noting the set in Robert’s shoulders.

“I didn’t even come to his funeral.” Robert says out loud, and Aaron doesn’t ask why or push him, he just looks at the Sugden on the stone before them. “Vic and mum did, but I couldn’t.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that. His mind flashes to the few dreams of Robert as a child, the unimaginably large presence of Jack, the soft warm joy of Sarah.

“He wasn’t a bad man.” Robert sighs, tilting his head. “I think he would have loved a different son.”

Aaron hates the way Robert’s accepted his role as a disappointment, so out of sync with his confidence and certainty. He moves closer, but doesn’t touch, just lets Robert feel his presence.

Robert seems determined to press on.

“We never really recovered after he caught me with a farmhand once.” Robert shrugs, “The way he  _ screamed _ .”

“He leathered me.” Robert looks at the sky, throat stretched, then back down. “That was the last straw for mum. She packed us up and moved that night.”

Aaron remembers a dream of the lot of them in a car, Robert aching with sadness and a pain at his back Aaron hadn’t been able to identify, Sarah’s hand on Robert’s knee, her assurances he’d meet someone some day.

Robert turns to Aaron, eyes a stormy green-grey. “He’d cheated on her.”

“Few times, I guess.” He shrugs, “She had too much sherry once and told me.” 

Robert’s brows soften at the memory.

Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, knowing Robert needs it.

“I never wanted to be like him.” Robert’s voice cracks as he looks at Aaron, eyes wet and lost. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

Aaron doesn’t know if he means Sarah or Chrissie.

He’s not sure if Robert does either.

____________________________________

Aaron’s spent the day at Cain’s garage, helping him fix an Italian model they’d both never worked on. It’s nice, the quiet way his uncle works.

He’d offered Aaron a job once, but he’d turned it down, needing to find his own way. He thinks Cain was proud when he’d told him no.

He’s avoided the pub all day, not needing the questions floating around Chas, but Cain claps a hand onto his shoulder and promises him tea and a pint for his trouble, and Aaron gives in.

Vic is at the bar, and Aaron  _ knows _ the coat thrown across the stool, glass of red wine with a faint kiss of lipstick at the rim.

_ Fuck. _

Chrissie walks out from the loos, and looks shocked for a moment, trying to place his face. He sees the moment she figures out who he is, as the corners of her lips tick up, “Aaron, what a surprise.”

Cain turns to him questioningly, as does Vic, and Aaron gestures towards Chrissie awkwardly, “I fixed her car.” He shrugs at the woman, “This is me mum’s pub.” 

The  _ O _ of her mouth feels calculated, like she’s been taught to be interested in people, “Well, then you know the best way to convince her to let little Vic here have a week off!”

“We need her around for the  _ whole _ lead up to the wedding.” Chrissie is explaining, and Aaron feels his heart thud against his ribs, “With so little time to plan I want to make sure everything is as perfect as possible.”

Aaron’s mouth has gone dry.

His mind is empty of words.

“Ehrm.” He croaks.

Vic is behind Chrissie, shaking her head at Aaron unhelpfully, so he makes his best guess at what she wants. “I don’t know if mum can be without a chef for that long?”

Chrissie pouts in a way that screams she has a wealthy father, and gestures at the menu board, “I think they can find someone to heat up some chips for a week.”

Her dismissal of Vic’s cooking makes Aaron frown. The chef’s shoulders fall down, embarrassed blush on her cheeks.

Chrissie must read his expression as something else, because she starts to backpedal immediately, “Not that this pub isn’t  _ extraordinarily _ charming.”

“It’s just not on its way to a Michelin star, is it?” She must be aiming for a joke, but it makes Aaron bristle even more, brows coming together.

“He knew you didn’t mean it like that.” Vic cuts in, “And I’ll try. Maybe I can get Marlon to work the whole week, then work extra the week after.” 

Her voice is fake and cheery, and it makes Aaron tighten his fists.

Cain must see he’s on edge, so he steps in and orders a couple of pints, pointing Aaron to a seat.

Aaron finds a corner and sits in it, seething at Chrissie.

_ “She’s got talent, ya know? We were saving for culinary school before mum got diagnosed. She wanted to be around, so she’s putting it off.” Robert had said after Aaron had burnt the beans for a second time. _

_ Not his fault with Robert kissing trails across his shoulders, lips soft and lush against Aaron’s skin.  _

_ They give up eventually, toast enough fuel, Robert only has an hour and they don’t feel like wasting it on a third attempt.  _

When Vic comes over he sits up straighter, needing to get the words out right. 

“I think you make the best burgers in Yorkshire.” His voice is rusty, unused to giving unsolicited complements.

Vic looks shocked.

Aaron nods over at Chrissie, “She wouldn’t know it, but my mum talks about you like you’re the best thing to happen to this place since she bought it.”

The smile that crosses her face, blush pink under the freckles at her cheeks, makes the awkward stare of shock he gets from Cain worth it.

“You sweet on Sugden now?” Cain asks once Vic’s well out of earshot. “Thought we raised you better than that.”

Aaron inhales a swallow of ale, lungs rejecting the invasion immediately.

He coughs out his response, eyes watering, “Still gay.”

Cain’s curt nod comes with an offer of a napkin and a pat on the back. 

“Good. Sugdens and Dingles don’t mix.”

____________________________________


	26. Chapter 26

_ What time are you going to bed tonight? _

Aaron stares at the message for a second before he puts down his crisps to respond.

_ seeing as how im an adult, whenever i want. _

He’s short because Robert’s been absent for two days, and even though tomorrow is Friday and Chrissie will have gone back to London, Aaron hasn’t heard anything until the text on his screen.

_ Don’t be like that. _

_ I want to see you. _

Aaron rolls his eyes and eats a crisp, leaving a salty fingerprint on his screen.  _ shes away for 4 days. u could’ve made a plan _

He can almost see Robert make a face at his phone and run a hand through his hair in frustration.

_ Don’t want to wait that long. _

Aaron looks at the car he’s in the middle of restoring, bent over all day, shoulders straining. He twists so his lower back aches less, but he can feel the wear of it already. He thinks about the heat of the bath water he’ll sit in tonight to work it out, the way the warmth spreads and makes his lids heavy.

_10._ He types back, biting the inside of his cheek to squash the smile that comes unbidden when Robert texts back  _ See you then. _

He stares at the renovated engine before him and pours the dregs of crumbs into his mouth.

It only hits him later how strange that conversation would have been a month ago.

Also he has  _ no _ idea if it will work.

____________________________________

  
  


There’s a saturation to the color that comes with dreams. Like nothing is quite leveled correctly, either washed away at the corners or blindingly intense.

Aaron blinks, trying to make sense of the street he’s on, it feels familiar, but nothing is quite to scale, because he’s so much taller than the last time he was here, but it’s like everything has grown up high around him, dwarfing him.

The rectangular void of a door stands before him, and Aaron knows that inside the house is his father. Furious and unrelenting, always getting him a new doctor who wanted to try a new, more extreme therapy.

The cobblestones beneath his feet are morphing, lines and letters, circles and ovals. His sneakers are making prints on massive pills, and it’s been  _ so long  _ since he had a proper nightmare he almost doesn’t know what to do with the fear.

His heart is pounding, the pitch black rectangle is growing, and his father’s pacing steps are echoing.

His arms feel trapped around him, pinned in a hug to his chest, and without looking he knows he’s been wrapped in the beige of a straightjacket, he can hear the clinks of the metal loops in his ears.

He’s being pulled into the blackhole of the house by a force he can only thrash against.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to brace his feet on earth made up of smooth capsules and tablets.

There’s a hand on his elbow, fingers gripping, and for a moment he’s certain he’s about to be dragged inside, but then he recognizes the touch.

It’s Robert.

Being caught so vulnerable to the surreal creation of his brain, absent of reality or tangible threat, makes him feel like a child screaming at monsters in the closet. Irrational and terrified in spite of that. The hot shame of it makes him squeeze his eyes tighter, but he can feel the warmth of Robert before him, two hands cupping Aaron’s elbows.

“Look at me.” Robert whispers, but Aaron can’t. 

He feels a loosening at his sides, Robert’s hands undoing something, his arms slowly freed.

“Aaron, look at me.” Robert’s voice is calm, and it’s that that makes Aaron blink his eyes open.

The world behind Robert is still a horrific gaping maw of blackness, but Robert looks real in a way the nightmare doesn’t. 

It takes a moment for Aaron to realize it’s because Robert’s moving while the scene around him is frozen in space.

He pulls his arms away from his body, straightjacket flaking off like ash and disappearing.

His teeth are still clenched tight against a scream he won’t allow to escape.

Robert’s right there, eyes searching Aaron’s for something, and there’s no fear in them, just certainty.

Aaron wants to curl up and put his forehead on the shoulder before him, let Robert’s back block out the images.

Robert seems to know what Aaron’s thinking, because he turns sideways, preventing Aaron from avoiding the scene.

“Get rid of it.” He shifts his hands down to Aaron’s sides, anchoring him.

Aaron can’t keep the sneer of disbelief off his face. “What?” 

“It’s your dream, why not make it disappear?” Robert says, one hand never leaving Aaron’s side, but the other gesturing at the building.

“You must be joking.” Aaron sniffs, wiping at his eyes.

Robert shrugs, “Doesn’t seem like there’s much to it. You made the jacket fall apart?” 

“That…” Aaron shakes his head, “I don’t know how I did that.”

Robert looks him up and down, and Aaron can’t keep the flush of embarrassment and want off his cheeks. “I don’t think it’s all that complicated. Just try. Worst thing that happens is you wake up.”

_ But then you’re stuck here _ . Aaron can’t keep his mind from shouting, and he can tell Robert hears it by the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Then I say bye bye Aaron, and I wake up.” Robert replies, leaning in, pressing a light kiss to Aaron’s temple. 

Aaron leans into it for a moment before shaking his head at the other man and frowning at the frozen dream around them.

He feels like an idiot, frowning at his own subconscious, willing it away.

Especially when it doesn’t move.

Robert shifts behind him.

“It’s not like there’s a manual!” Aaron turns around, crossing his arms, then immediately uncrossing as the memory of the tight pull at his arms makes him shiver.

Robert tilts his head to the side, considering Aaron.

Aaron hits his sneaker against a pill stone, trying to concentrate on making it crumble at the kick. 

“Might as well just try and wake up.” He mutters when the shiny coating doesn’t even scuff.

Robert steps in, feet approaching Aaron’s, but Aaron keeps his eyes down until Robert’s close enough that when he looks up the other man’s face is most of his vision.

“Come on, give it another go.” Robert coaxes. 

“You’ll make me think I fell for a quitter.” Robert’s tone is teasing, but the words make Aaron’s heart stutter.

He can’t keep himself from freezing, off-kilter at Robert’s easy admission.

Robert smiles like he hasn’t just cracked Aaron’s ribcage open, and steps back, spreading his arms wide. “Come on!”

The challenge on his tongue makes Aaron laugh.

The building across splits in two.

Robert’s look of shock is enough to pull another laugh from Aaron’s chest, street splitting down the middle.

Aaron takes a long step to Robert, reaching up and pulling him down, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips, enjoying the exhale of surprise against his cheek.

He kisses Robert because he’s not afraid of the world around him.

Because Robert made him laugh even here.

Because Robert wraps him in his arms and pulls him close.

The wind whips around them, making Aaron flatten his palms to Robert’s temples, blocking the crumbling building bits from his eyes. 

When it’s calm again Robert breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to Aaron’s, eyes still closed.

“Think you just rocked my world.” 

He’s lucky Aaron’s brain had brought them to a room with a bed placed right behind him, because even if it weren’t a dream Robert would deserve the shove he gets. 

____________________________________

  
  


According to Robert, Saturday is girls’ day, and Vic is taking Sarah for some pampering and movies.

He calls Aaron late on Friday, after Sarah’s gone to sleep, and promises they’ll have the day together.

Aaron swallows down the truth that he’d be alright to spend the day with Robert and his mum, and trades it for the need to have Robert all to himself.

He asks how Aaron’s day was, what cars he worked on.

Aaron finds himself describing his annoyance with a cheap imports’ wiring, trying to get across the way the components are tangled.

He smiles when Robert’s low laugh wraps itself around his ear.

Robert whinges about a client who claimed they wanted a campaign with ‘subdued vibrance and edgy class’ but then snubbed each of Robert’s plans.

“They said they wanted it to be a more vertical circle, but when I delicately suggested an oval they told me ovals aren’t in their branding.” Robert mumbles half into his pillow.

“Everyone you work for sounds like a ponce.” Aaron yawns back. He props the phone on the pillow next to him.

He can hear the rustle of Robert’s nod. “When I own my own firm I’ll choose which clients I get to work with.”

The certainty with which he says it makes Aaron smile, but he can’t keep himself from poking fun, “Sure of yourself, ain’t ya?”

“I get what I want, Aaron. You of all people should know that.”

That makes Aaron bite his lip.  _ But for how long? People don’t want me forever. _

He misses whatever Robert’s saying, some business space he’s picked out for whenever it opens up, big windows in a former industrial building, “Exposed brick and it’s got a spiral staircase to the offices.”

That pulls a little laugh from Aaron, “Good way to break an ankle.”

“Good way to make an  _ entrance _ , Aaron. People look at you when you come down one of those. It says you care about form.”

Aaron hums non-committedly. 

“I’ll take you there, once I get enough to put a down payment in. You’ll like it.” Robert’s voice is slowing down, like he’s barely staying awake, pauses spreading wide between words.

Aaron blinks, feeling his eyelids get heavier, he can’t quite find a response.

After the third blink they stay shut.

____________________________________


	27. Chapter 27

Aaron spends his morning vaguely cleaning in the hope that it will pass the time. He knows Robert needs to drive Sarah to Emmerdale and back, so he probably won’t be around until eleven at the earliest.

He puts navy blue sheets on the bed.

He showers.

He frowns into his closet, contemplating hoodies, and then pulls out a charcoal grey jumper his mum had gotten him for his birthday.

It’s soft and expensive, and she’d teased him that the right guy would want someone with more than black hoodies in his closet. 

_ Some restaurants have dress codes, Aaron. _

He frowns at it for a moment.

_ Fewer layers to take off. _ He justifies to himself, and pulls it on, smoothing it over his arms, liking how it clings to his skin.

_ Once Aaron had had money. Real money. The kind that came with servants and swaths of land he had to think about. The kind that meant he needed a manservant.  _

_ Robert was always there, buttoning closures, tying laces. He heated the water for Aaron’s baths and stoked the fire in Aaron’s bedchamber. He smoothed out wrinkles, hands pressing for too long, fingers trailing too far. He loved velvet, making sure the fibers lay just right before Aaron went to dinner.  _

_ Aaron had teased him about it, Robert’s affection for finery. For fabrics and softness. Robert’s cheeks had colored, he’d said that wasn’t what he liked. Aaron hadn’t pushed. _

_ They’d almost… once. Robert’s hands skimming over gold thread embroidery, chest almost pressed to Aaron’s, reflection of the candle dancing in his eyes, lips close enough that Aaron had been about to lean in. _

_ A maid had knocked then, and they’d put air between them. _

_ Robert’s family had called him to help with his brother’s wedding a few days later. _

_ He’d died on the passage. _

_ Aaron hadn’t known for weeks. _

Aaron gasps in a desperate inhale, frozen in place while the memory washed over him. 

He’s not sure if he’ll ever get over the experience of feeling another life echo inside him, the way it expands to nearly overtake him, but then contracts again. A balloon, pressing at the interior of his mind, then deflating.

He glances at the clock. It’s almost ten. 

He worries his lip, looking around at a flat he refuses to do more to, and flops down onto the sofa, scrolling through channels for a marathon of something he’s seen before.

He settles on  _ 24 _ , uncaring of which season it is, but certain that the world is in peril, and Jack Bauer is on the case.

____________________________________

  
  


He’s watching the second episode of Jack torturing some poor sod when Robert sends  _ Outside _ .

Aaron frowns at the screen,  _ u comin up? _

_ Bit hungry. Thought we could grab some lunch.  _ makes Aaron shift in his seat, uncertain, before standing and stuffing his wallet into his pocket, phone still in his hand.

Robert is parked outside, window down. Aaron’s step stutters briefly at the image of him, white button down rolled up to his elbow, a button of his collar undone.

Based on Robert’s smug smile he knows what he looks like.

Robert’s eyes track up and down him, and Aaron refuses to let Robert indulge, rolling his eyes and pulling the Porsche door open, sliding in.

Robert shocks Aaron by leaning to him, hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. He presses a quick kiss to Aaron’s lips like it’s the easiest thing.

When he pulls back, Aaron can’t keep from blinking in surprise, eyes flitting to search the street around him for passersby.

There’s no one.

_ Robert probably knew that already.  _

Aaron looks down at his hands, feeling foolish and off kilter.

Robert starts the car, radio turning back on. It’s some nineties’ pop station, and Aaron hates that he knows the song. Robert’s tapping to the tune on his wheel, and if it didn’t make him so endearing Aaron would hate it.

“Please tell me you don’t like 5ive.” He groans, leaning against the headrest.

Robert stops mouthing the lyrics, “I don’t  _ like _ them. It’s just one of those songs everyone knows.”

Aaron lifts an eyebrow, “You don’t see me singing.”

“Well, you’re grumpy.” Robert shrugs as he turns down a street, glancing back at Aaron and smiling, “Wouldn’t know fun if you were dropped in the middle of a Spice Girls concert.”

Aaron scoffs, “You  _ would _ like them too.”

Robert stops the car and looks right at Aaron, “If you tell me you don’t want to dance when ‘Wannabe’ comes on, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t dance.” Aaron leans over, enunciating clearly. 

Robert laughs and takes his foot off the brake. “Notice you didn’t say you don’t  _ want _ to.”

Aaron gestures in frustration, but Robert just turns the music up and shimmies awkwardly while reading the nav system.

Aaron looks at the address they’re headed to, but he only vaguely knows the area. “Where ya takin’ me, then?”

Robert shrugs, “Figured we’ve got all day. Fancied a beer garden.”

They end up sitting at a table on the canal at some place Aaron’s heard of but never been to. The wooden tables are unassuming, but the beer and wine list look impressive. 

The view is nice, water on both sides, and the air is fresh against Aaron’s skin. Robert’s chosen a table where the sun hits, making Aaron close his eyes and turn his face towards it every once in a while.

Aaron orders fish and chips, and Robert decides on a steak, but he keeps sneaking chips when he thinks Aaron’s not looking.

Eventually Aaron turns his plate so they can share while watching the frankly disastrous double date at the table next to them. Their fingers brush often, making Aaron duck to cover his smile.

The women at the other table stand in unison, leaving their drinks unfinished, their dates looking uncomfortable.

When they finish eating Aaron is prepared for Robert to take them back to Aaron’s, to spend the rest of their time in bed, but Robert gets them each a second drink, then looks at Aaron and asks for a side of chips to accompany them. He hands the waitress some notes, waving off Aaron's motion to his own wallet.

It hits Aaron that this is the closest they’ve ever been to a date, and he hides his smile in his beer.

It’s overwhelming, being the center of Robert’s attention, having him look at Aaron when he’s telling a story, expressive hands gesturing in the air. 

Aaron can feel the way the sun is pinking the shell of his ears, cheeks warming whenever Robert’s ankle catches on his under the table.

Robert is sipping a glass of red that’s staining his lips a little, and Aaron’s eyes keep catching on them, their color more pronounced against Robert’s skin than normal. 

Robert must notice that Aaron’s eyes are on his mouth, because his leg comes out, ankle brushing against Aaron’s calf, a smile at the corners of his lips. 

“You want to get out of here?” Robert’s voice is lower, more intimate now, he’s leaning on his elbows, mirroring Aaron’s posture. 

Aaron nods and finishes his pint in a sip. 

He would feel embarrassed at how eager he is if Robert weren’t leaving his glass unfinished, standing quickly.

Robert’s hand finds the small of Aaron’s back as they exit, resting briefly before they get to the quiet side street where they left the car. The gesture makes Aaron brave, turning when Robert slows to pull out his key, and leans against the car, hips out, legs wide.

He’s welcoming Robert in, and he wants to crow in satisfaction when the wine or the sun or the food goes to Robert’s head and he steps between Aaron’s legs, hands finding his sides, small sigh of satisfaction escaping when he dips down and kisses Aaron.

He tastes like wine and the salt of the chips, and Aaron barely keeps himself from deepening the kiss, because it’s an empty street, but he knows Robert will run if he comes to his senses.

So he puts his hands on Robert’s chest, and breaks the kiss, and Robert steps back, eyes still on Aaron’s lips. He can see the moment when Robert remembers where they are, the glance around, the tightening of his jaw.

He’s worried for a second that even now Robert might bolt.

But Robert’s shoulders relax, seeing no one, and he opens the door behind Aaron and gestures, “Let’s go.”

____________________________________

  
  


The way Robert looks, nakedly sprawled against the deep blue sheets, breathing softly as he dozes, makes Aaron hold himself back from waking him. 

He looks younger, jaw loose, no creases near his eyes.

Aaron’s eyes skim over the skin, noting a red patch of beard burn on one side of Robert’s neck, the light teeth marks at a hip.

They’ll heal fully by the time Chrissie’s back, but they give Aaron a thrill to see, nestled in between Robert’s freckles.

Aaron knows he has crescents of red along his back, he can feel their centering twinge when he shifts. Robert has sucked another bruise onto the line of Aaron’s shoulder, and Aaron presses a finger to it lightly, closing his eyes at the thrill of it.

Robert’s breathing changes. Aaron opens his eyes, but Robert’s still asleep, and Aaron’s not sure if he wants to join him or pull him awake.

He trails his eyes over Robert’s body, cataloguing every dip and rise, imagining the way the skin would taste under his tongue. He admires the way the group of speckles at Robert’s belly button looks like a constellation he could lick off.

He’s not sure, but he thinks Robert’s chest looks more flushed.

He runs blunt nails over his thigh, and up his own hip, finding sensitive spots where Robert had nipped and grabbed. He leans back again, feeling the stretch and pull of muscles, the tenderness he might feel for a few days when he sits.

He’d begged Robert  _ harder _ .

He presses his thumb to a circular bruise from the frantic clutch of Robert’s hands at his hips.

He’s certain this time that Robert’s breath catches in his throat.

Aaron looks at him closely, but he still seems to be sleeping, the lanky sprawl of his limbs untensed.

He spends a moment wondering what the best way to wake Robert would be, mind running through a few options, skin and sweat and want behind his eyelids.

He can’t keep from pressing a palm to himself, teeth catching at his lip.

He looks at Robert’s face, moving forward to press a kiss to the cheekbone, then hovers just for a moment, appreciating the tiny freckles on the bridge of Robert’s nose.

Robert’s eyelashes flutter, and Aaron pauses, listening as the other man’s breathing speeds up. He blinks awake, reaching up, uncoordinated hands a bit clumsy, to hold Aaron’s head as he pulls him down.

Aaron sinks his weight down on Robert’s chest, licking into his mouth lazily.

Robert twists his head, breaking the kiss, gasping.

“You really like my freckles.” He pants out, bringing a hand to the bruise at his hip Aaron had been pressing at before. 

It pulls a gasp of want from Aaron’s diaphragm, making him squeeze his eyes shut as Robert shifts and licks across the bruise on Aaron’s shoulder.

Robert’s deep rumble of a voice at Aaron’s throat makes Aaron swallow thickly even before he registers the words being said.

“Dreaming of myself naked is too weird. Next time just wake me up.”

____________________________________


	28. Chapter 28

Robert is busy with Sarah all Sunday, but he peppers Aaron with messages. 

Some make Aaron blush hotly, swallowing down the want.

_ I swear I can still feel the way you hit the back of my throat. _

Some make Aaron roll his eyes.

_ Eating orecchiette and broccolini. Still can’t believe you think that Spag Bol is the height of Italian. _

Aaron finds himself staring at the ones that make his chest light up with words he refuses to voice. 

A photo of a car Robert knew Aaron loved and  _ knew you had to see this. _

A close up image of Robert’s freckled cheek, winking face emoji and  _ because you like them _ underneath.

Aaron replies  _ do one  _ even as he saves the image.

Robert calls him late, voice whisper-soft, and it’s only been a day, but Aaron hates that he doesn’t get to see Robert’s hair after his shower, soft and flat across his forehead.

He hates that Robert’s pillow in his bed no longer has the imprint of his head on it.

It’s all too much, and Aaron’s hovering between wanting to hang up and begging for Robert to come over.

Robert must hear the strangeness in Aaron’s voice because his own changes, smile in his tone as he asks what Aaron’s done all day.

“Mostly been bothered by your texts.”

Robert’s laugh is warm and genuine, and it makes Aaron brave.

“You doing anything tomorrow?”

Robert hums, “Work, but my afternoon is free. Why, you have some ideas?” The way he emphasizes the end of his sentence makes it clear what he’s thinking, and it warms Aaron even as he shakes it off.

“My boss is having a party, he and his brother always go all out.” Aaron scratches a nail across his brow, “You could come, if you like?”

There’s a silence on the other end before Robert replies, “I don’t—”

Aaron sits up, swallowing his nerves, interrupting Robert’s refusal. “Just as mates.”

He can hear Robert’s intake of breath, and he knows the rejection that’s coming. “I can’t, Aaron.”

Aaron forgets Robert can’t see him nod.

“But when is it done? I could pick you up?” Robert’s counteroffer stings, but Aaron knows to take it.

“Sure.” He swallows, “I’ll let you know.”

He’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake.

“I’m—” Whatever apology Robert is preparing Aaron can’t handle.

“I’ve got to go, early shift tomorrow.” 

He barely hears Robert’s goodbye, ending the call before it’s even done.

____________________________________

  
  


_ heres the address  
_ _ see u at 8? _

Siobhan finds Aaron at the party where he’s picking through snacks and making a plate.

“You’ve checked your phone three times in the last five minutes.” She says, and Aaron can feel the way the taste of the sandwich in his mouth sours.

_ He isn’t responding. _

“Weird thing to notice.” He points out before taking a massive bite.

She’s unfazed by his response. “Who is he?” 

He takes his time while chewing, trying to find an answer that encompasses Robert.

“His name is Robert,” is all he settles for.

She waits him out, hand on one hip. He feels like an insect on a pin.

“I’ve been seeing him for a bit.” He looks at the meatball on a stick he’s picked up.

“And where is he?” She looks around, “Stood you up?”

Aaron shakes his head. “He’s not. I asked but...” He stops, trying to find an explanation. “He’s picking me up later.”

Siobhan narrows her eyes at him, like she’s not pleased with his avoidance. “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”

Aaron doesn’t have much of a response, because he  _ is _ , but he can’t help but feel the emptiness at his side. He’s grateful that she just nods and drags him back into the crowd, an entire pub filled with Nick and Mark’s friends and family, and presses a drink to his palm.

Aaron looks down at his still-silent phone and takes a swig.

When he catches himself looking again later he takes another.

Hours later everyone is clapping each other on the back, giving lingering hugs that they’d never let last when sober. Aaron’s off in the corner, feeling too close to truly drunk. 

“Good thing the garage is closed tomorrow.” Nick leans in to Aaron’s shoulder, pointing at Mark who is propped up against the brick wall outside the pub. 

Aaron nods silently, hand on his phone. He frowns at himself before opening his mouth. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Nick’s smile is large, his hand a thunderclap on Aaron’s shoulder. Siobhan comes over, and Nick pulls her close, tucking her into his side. 

Aaron feels the sick slide of jealousy in his chest.

“No ride?” Siobhan looks at him, and Aaron can’t help but notice the pity in her stare.

“He must have had a better offer.” He grits out.

She opens her mouth to reply, but Aaron waves her off. 

He’s grateful when she nods and pulls a confused Nick along with her.

He walks home, feeling hollow in a way he hasn’t in a while. 

By the time he’s in his own flat it’s nearly midnight.

He sits and sips a glass of water.

His phone buzzes.

_ Sorry, got caught up. _

His phone makes a satisfying sound when it smashes into a cabinet.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron stands on a rolling estate. There’s a horse in the distance, lush grass beneath his feet. It looks to be late afternoon, the light bright and clear.

Something about it is familiar, but he can’t quite put a finger on what.

Robert appears between Aaron’s blinks. Aaron searches his face for answers.

_ Where were you? Where are we?  _

Robert’s eyes are on Aaron, soft and crinkling slightly at the edges like he’s thinking something nice.

The look makes Aaron hold his questions inside, feeling the prickle of them on his skin. Waiting for the apology he hopes will come.

Robert doesn’t seem to notice that anything is unusual until he glances over Aaron’s shoulder and blanches.

Aaron turns, half expecting a nightmare creature on the prowl.

All he’s met with is a familiar building’s silhouette. 

“Home Farm?” He frowns, trying to remember anything notable happening to him here, then turns back to Robert, expecting some tale of his youth.

Robert’s avoiding his eyes.

He’s looking at the building, mouth open a bit, still pale.

There’s a crease between his brows, his eyes scanning the building, assessing.

Aaron can see the lie he’s trying to build.

The lie he’s about to tell  _ Aaron _ .

“Don’t.” It comes out harsh, biting.

Robert starts a little, licking his lip and holding Aaron’s gaze, “What?”

Aaron shakes his head, dismissing the avoidance. “Don’t tell that lie. Whatever your mind just cooked up. Just don’t.”

“I wasn’t!” Robert’s too quick, too offended, “Why would you think I would—”

He’s  _ lying _ .

“Because you’ve got form. Seem to remember a promise of a ride last night. Pretty sure I  _ walked _ home.” 

Aaron steps closer, finger poking harshly into Robert’s sternum. “So think before you try whatever it is you’re about to try and tell me.” He hisses, leaning in. 

He can tell the moment Robert doubles down. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There’s a sneer on his face, “I just assumed we were at another Dingle crime scene.”

Aaron grabs and twists the fabric at Robert’s chest, “I’ve never even been inside, but I’ve a feeling you have.”

He pulls, walking them towards the building, when he hears a car drive up the road. 

He can practically feel Robert’s heartbeat quicken under Aaron’s knuckles. 

Aaron recognizes the car: it’s a BMW X6.

He personally fixed it up so it could drive back and forth to London.

He lets go of Robert’s shirt as Robert and Chrissie climb out of the car, and Robert links her arm in his.

Aaron freezes for a moment, swallowing, mind reaching back to conversations with his mum about vendors working with Home Farm to sell bulk champagne for weddings.

“Aaron—” The Robert behind him sounds conflicted.

_ You knew this was happening. _

Aaron turns, shaking his head as he puts space between them. “Shut up.”

Robert steps closer, “Look—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Aaron bites out.

Robert crosses his arms, sighing in frustration, “It’s just a wedding venue.” His tone is flippant in a way that makes Aaron’s stomach turn.

_ He’s really going through with it. _ There’s this hit of reality to Aaron’s chest.

“Is this where you were yesterday?”

Robert freezes for a moment before he nods sharply, looking at the estate. “She came back, made some last minute reservations.”

He waves an arm at Chrissie, “I couldn’t say no.”

Aaron looks up, sees the other Robert with his hand at the bottom of Chrissie’s back, nodding as she points around the lawn.

_ He put his hand on me in the same way. _

Aaron turns on his heel, shaking, searching for words.

Robert must see something he can’t handle, because his face turns angry as he cuts Aaron off, “You knew what you were signing on for.”

His truth makes Aaron bare his teeth, “You’re  _ marrying _ her, Robert. Not playing house.”

Robert’s eyes go cold, “I know what I’m doing.”

Aaron scoffs.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Robert sneers. “Chrissie and I make  _ sense _ . She’s brilliant, and driven, and beautiful.”

_ All the things you’re not _ hangs between them.

Robert straightens, settling his shoulders. “I love her.”

The words cut Aaron deep, flaying him open.

“And what about us?” He challenges, stepping forward, silently begging for Robert to say something.

Robert’s eyes widen, then harden as he sets his jaw.

Aaron wants to take everything back, because he knows before Robert says anything what’s coming.

“Once we’re married that’s it.” Robert spits back. “I won’t cheat.”

Aaron can’t remember balling his fist up, but he knows he’ll never forget the way Robert’s jaw felt under his knuckles.

____________________________________

  
  


On the ride to his mum’s Aaron is turning over the fight in his mind. 

He  _ knew _ pushing Robert was wrong. Even Sarah warned him as much.

But he’d gone and done it anyway.

_ You overstepped.  _

He looks at the crack in his phone screen, noting the silence from Robert since last night.

_ Got caught up, acting like he’s yours just because you’re his. _

He swallows down the bile at the back of his throat.

_ That’s a one way street.  _

He has to pull over in a layby for a bit, slamming his palms into the wheel in front of him, pushing down the disappointment.

If Chas notices Aaron’s return to surly form when he comes to visit her for tea. She must see something in the barely tethered way he’s holding himself, because she keeps quiet about it.

They chat about family gossip, some of his cousins got caught stealing cars and stripping them for parts.

“They tried to sell Cain some of it and he told them where to shove it. Good thing, too, because another garage in Hotten was raided.” She gestures with her fork at Aaron. “Keep an eye out at yours.”

Aaron doesn’t have the energy to tell her that the mid-level car thieves around Emmerdale wouldn’t have the first clue how to fence stolen goods to his bosses.

So he nods.

Vic enters the back room, wiping her hands on her apron and looking harried, “Chas, sorry to be a bother, but have you given any more thought to the week off?”

His mum tilts her head and Aaron tries to keep his back relaxed, wanting nothing more than to tense up.

“When is it again?” Chas frowns slightly, trying to remember.

_ Two weeks. _

“Week after next. My brother’s getting married, wants me there for the whole run up. Even made me his best man.” Vic sounds like she’s rolling her eyes while holding in a smile. “Planning his stag do and all. Some posh gin place in Manchester.”

Chas looks conflicted. Aaron feels like stepping in, backing his mum. Running Robert and Chrissie’s plan.

“My mum needs one of us around.” Vic continues, voice a little more urgent. “I hate that I’ll leave you short staffed, but she— She needs me there.”

Aaron’s stomach drops.

_ Sarah deserves this wedding. Robert doesn’t, but  _ she _ does. _

He stares down at the table, tries to ignore the way it swims a bit, surprised by the way his eyes are watering.

“I can help out at the bar, mum.” He mumbles. 

The look of shock on her face makes him cross his arms in front of him, guarded.

It occurs to him that Robert’s stag will be the weekend before, and he can’t be anywhere near that. 

“I can drive up, do her weekend so Marlon can work the kitchen.” 

“Both days?” Chas asks.

He sighs, “Still got a room, don’t I?”

She looks up at Vic, a smile on her face. “Looks like you’ve got a week off.”

Aaron’s not prepared for the hug around his shoulders from behind, the “Thank you!” practically shouted in his ear.

He looks down at his plate, smear of gravy on the edge.

Three weeks. Three weeks til Robert’s out of his life for good.

He shifts uncomfortably, the smallest itch tingling along his spine.

____________________________________


	29. Chapter 29

Aaron is in a cave of some sort. It’s dry and dusty, and so hot he feels like the walls are closing in. The Davy lamp in his hands is flickering and casting shadows that make the walls look like they’re moving.

He’s in coveralls, and now that he’s focusing he can hear the noise of men nearby. There’s cracks and thuds, but the sound feels like it’s swallowed up by the particles in the air.

He inhales and his mouth feels dusty.

He inhales and his lungs protest,  _ but not enough to worry ‘bout. _

He inhales and  _ knows _ he’s still got years down here, and that he better get back to it.

He wipes his forehead, wet with sweat under his helmet, and the smudge left behind is black. He knows the cleaned skin will be coated again in coal dust in moments.

It’s his job today to check out unused sections of the tunnels, make sure the supports are still in tact, and that there’s no leaks.

Mary’d gasped sadly when he’d told her, then packed an extra pasty and pressed her palm to his heart as she kissed him goodbye.

_ Her hand is too small. Her lips too thin. _

Aaron shakes off the intrusion of the memory. He has to be alert. Being the lookout is dangerous. 

He swallows down the grit on his tongue and walks, looking intently at the walls and wooden supports as he goes.

He won’t be the reason these men don’t make it home. They’ve got  _ families _ , children who don’t deserve to grow up without a father.

Mary can’t. When the doctor told them, Aaron had felt his heart break.

But at least he’d never have to worry that inside his children were  _ wrong _ like him.

That they might sometimes let their eyes slide across the shoulders of other miners. Mouth going dry from more than coal dust.

It’s why he’s always on this job. The foreman can sense it in him.

Guilt is why he always agrees.

He glares at the rot in one of the main supports, reaching out to feel the way the wood flakes off under his thumb.

_ Needs replacing. _

He keeps walking, straining to listen for dripping water, for creaking wood. He wishes his ears were better, but the blasts they use have made it hard to pick out everything.

The light from his lamp illuminates a sheen on the walls, signs of the recent heavy rains leeching deep into the soil. He can feel the sleekness on the walls, and when he presses it feels less substantial than it should.

He frowns at the wall, palm searching for how much of it is unsound.

Aaron wishes he could say he hears it coming, that he gets some warning, but all he gets is the feeling of his hand sinking deep into a spot, then the impact of the wooden support above onto his shoulder.

The ceiling gives way, slamming into him.

His last thoughts aren’t of Mary.

____________________________________

  
  


He wakes up coughing, lungs feeling like they’re full of silt, retching from the taste of coal and filth on his tongue.

When he looks at the bedside table he can see it’s only five.

_ Three hours. _

He sits up, feeling the ache of exhaustion and pain in every crevice of his frame.

_ That’s two more than yesterday. _

At first it had been a self-preservation technique, avoiding Robert in the only way he can.

But three days in, covered in bruises from misjudging doorframes and counters, he’d given in and laid down, praying all he’d get was lonely empty spaces.

He’d tossed for hours, never managing more than a blink of rest.

Now it’s been a week, and he feels like he’s being unsewn. Wherever he’s stitched together is fraying, and he can’t hold onto a thought for more than a moment before it twists and breaks and tumbles.

It’s not that he’s sleeping poorly, it’s that he  _ can’t _ sleep. 

Mark sent him home when Aaron’d almost forgot to check the positive and negative nodes on a battery before he’d charged it up.

He’d laid down, so tired it hurt, but nothing had happened. Nothing. He’d counted breaths, put on white noise, gotten up and taken a long hot bath, drunk some whiskey, he’d even tried some Nytol, but nothing.

Nothing until last night, when he’d slept from three to four, and dreamed of drowning on a fishing boat, quiet and surrounded by the sea until a wave had pulled the small crew under.

Aaron turns over, choking back a groan of pain.

He closes his eyes and hates the way he knows he’s wide awake, even as he can barely catch the thoughts that float by.

He knows he can’t work, not in this state, so he sends a text to Mark, telling him he needs the day, knowing he won’t see it for a few hours.

He flips to his back, wincing as the sheets irritate his skin. In his state of exhaustion he almost can’t feel the itch unless he presses it.

He presses his palms to his eyes, wanting to scream.

_ It’s not fair. _

The sparks of color behind his lids from the pressure against them are green, and he  _ hates _ that they remind him of Robert’s eyes.

He pulls his hands back and blinks up at the deep grey of the dark ceiling.

He hasn’t heard from Robert in a week. 

He didn’t expect the silence would hurt as much as it does.

_ I wonder if he’s sleeping. _

The thought makes something dark inside him uncurl, slithering around in his belly.

_ I wonder if he’s as miserable as I am. _

His phone buzzes, and for a breathless moment Aaron hopes.

But it’s his boss.  _ Get well soon. _

Aaron thumbs along the crack in his screen, aware that it’s blurring in and out of focus but unable to adjust.

There’s an echoing and emptiness inside him as he turns the phone off, curls up into a ball, and pulls the duvet over his head.

He closes his eyes and tries to count the beats of his heart.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron is looking around Robert’s bedroom and he wants to scream in frustration.

Because Aaron can tell that Robert feels  _ fine _ . There’s no ache of exhaustion anywhere in him.

He feels anticipatory, like he’s nervous and excited for something. 

Chrissie walks in, and Aaron can feel Robert respond to her, the way his body tenses, holding himself taller and more rigid than he does when alone.

She gets in close, hand reaching up and tightening his tie for him, slightly too far, making Robert swallow against it.

_ Robert hates ties. _

“You’ll do wonderfully. They won’t be able to say no.” Chrissie purrs against him, and Aaron mentally recoils from her touch, but Robert leans in.

Aaron feels the surprise in Robert when Chrissie pulls her chin back, fingers on his chin. “I’ve just done my makeup.” 

“Fine.” Robert’s shoulders fall slightly, and he tries to tilt his head back up.

“Don’t pout.” She holds his chin more firmly than before, holding his gaze. “I don’t have time to redo it.”

Aaron hates the way Robert feels small when she says that.

“I’ll see you after the weekend for our appointment with the florists.” She pats him on the chest, brushing imaginary lint from Robert’s suit. 

Aaron doesn’t miss the way Robert’s stomach sours at the mention. “Right.”

Chrissie doesn’t seem to notice as she gathers up her weekend bag and looks around to see if she’s missed anything.

Robert slips into his shoes while she does, pocketing his wallet and phone.

She wheels her case behind her, glancing at Sarah’s room, “Say goodbye to her for me.”

_ I hate that you won’t do it yourself. _ Robert’s voice echoes through Aaron’s mind. “Sure.”

At the door Chrissie turns around and scans the room before staring at Robert, and Aaron can feel the way it makes Robert want to squirm.

“Good luck with the clients from Japan.” He says, and her face softens for a moment.

Aaron can feel the glimmer of hope in Robert that the bitterness that he’s noticed has been brewing between them recently will fall away.  _ Smile at me _ .

She just nods, and gestures at the sofa, “Try and keep the place in better shape this time, I know you and your mum have your nights, but I don’t want to always be getting popcorn out of the cushions.” 

Robert nods mutely.

When the door shuts he sags a little, sighs, and loosens his tie slightly.

____________________________________

  
  


Aaron spends the day in Robert’s skin.

He watches him charm some big deal client with a new, bold vision for their company, ending with them signing a contract and Robert’s boss clapping him on the shoulder. Then Aaron rolls his eyes as Robert lords it over some weedy man in pinstripes at the next desk.

_ Neil _ Robert’s brain supplies, a sneer of derision in it.

He sees him frown at lettering, and argue with a woman heatedly over kerning, which is something Aaron has never heard of before, but now knows too many of Robert’s opinions about.

He calls Sarah on his lunch break, and Aaron listens closely along with Robert for any sign of her feeling worse. Any quaver in her voice making Robert’s heart race.

Aaron’s surprised when Robert goes to the fridge to pull out his lunch, he half-expected Robert to eat on the company’s card with some client.

It looks to be leftovers, chicken and mushrooms with wide flat noodles Aaron doesn’t recognize. 

Neil leans against Robert’s dividing wall, and Robert notices how his ill-fitting suit bunches at the ankles. He asks what Robert’s having, and Robert rolls his eyes because apparently Neil does this  _ every day. _

“It’s chicken marbella with tagliatelle.” Robert gestures at the food, “Now, if you don’t mind I only have a few minutes until I’m on a call with a client.”

Neil takes the hint, mumbling as he retreats, “Huh, thought it was pasta.” 

_ Aaron looks briefly like a deer in headlights as he stares at two packets of fresh pasta, and there’s a thrill in Robert’s chest when Aaron sets his jaw and his deep blue eyes narrow. “These are the same.”  _

_ “They’re not!” Robert holds in a smile as he points to each of the identical packets, keeping his eyes on Aaron’s face, tracking over his expressive brows. “This one is  _ linguine _ and this is  _ bavettine _.” _

_ Aaron looks at him, holding his lip in his teeth like he can’t quite decide what to do with Robert, and Robert can’t keep his eyes from watching the movement.  _

_ Robert feels the smile starting to hit the corners of his eyes at the moment Aaron notices it. _

_ “You’re  _ such _ a windup!” Aaron huffs out, throwing pasta at Robert so he has to catch it. There’s a moment when Robert wants to move closer, kiss the lip Aaron had just worried. _

_ But he sees Sarah come around the corner, ricotta in hand, and steps back. _

Aaron swallows down the hurt in his throat, trying to blink away the image of himself, uncomfortable with how he’d looked in Robert’s mind.

How happy Robert had felt.

There’s so many conflicting emotions in Robert’s chest that Aaron can’t feel them all, but he tastes the sourness of disgust, the bitterness of self-loathing. Robert pushes his lunch away and squeezes his eyes shut. 

He wishes he could close his eyes when Robert opens his texts, because he can see his own name at the bottom of the screen, below Sarah and Vic and Chrissie and Charlie, the woman Robert disagreed with on fonts.

He can feel the stutter of Robert’s heart seeing his name.

There’s an unread text at the top from ‘Planner’ who wants to coordinate a walk through of the space on Sunday, and Aaron can feel Robert’s breathing speed up, anxiety coursing through him.

Robert presses on Vic’s name instead, then scrolls up to where she’s written about getting the week off.

He sees Robert read and reread the message  _ Aaron volunteered to take my shifts! _

Aaron doesn’t know what to do with the spike of  _ emotion _ in Robert at seeing those words, but his temper flares at Robert’s reply  _ Garage must be struggling. _

He’s fond of Vic when she just replies  _ Don’t be mean. He wanted to help. Some people do nice things because they’re nice, Robert. _

Robert puts the phone face down and scrubs his hands over his face.

_ He’s not just nice. _ Aaron feels Robert think. 

He also feels the betrayal Robert feels in his own mind.  _ He’s nothing, stop. _

There’s a framed picture of Robert, Vic, and Sarah on his desk, and Robert stares at it for a beat, remembering the way his mum had looked at some cousin’s wedding.

_ She’d been radiant and kept tearing up, champagne in her hand, leaning against Robert a bit. “I love a wedding, they always feel like the start of something big.”  _

They’re dragged back to the present by Robert’s phone buzzing again, the planner with some idea about the table settings.

Robert swallows down the ball of nerves in his throat.

_ She loves a wedding. _

Aaron wants to shake him, scream in his ear.  _ She loves  _ you _ , you idiot! _

Robert’s thumb swipes across the screen as he erases Aaron’s contact, and then their remaining conversation from his phone.

____________________________________


	30. Chapter 30

Aaron wakes up in the late afternoon, well-rested and ravenous.

It isn’t until he sits up that the memories of Robert’s day hit him, and he feels the echo of the pain he felt when he saw Robert erase them.

_ Like they meant nothing. _

He’s shocked at how much it hurts, the impact shoving him up and out of bed, trying to escape his own memory.

He pours a bowl of cereal, trying to shrug off the way he feels like his skin is too small, like he should be taller, his hands bigger, his hair longer on the sides. 

It’s strange to be just Aaron again, after hours of Robert’s body.

When he sits down and frowns into his bowl he can’t keep himself from drifting back to the dream, worrying at the edges of it like the label on a beer bottle.

He supposes he’d hoped seeing Robert again would give him some sort of closure, some assurance that Robert knew what he wanted, that he’d chosen Chrissie because he didn’t want Aaron.

But when Aaron examines everything underneath his own responses, Robert hadn’t felt settled. He’d felt bitter and  _ resigned _ in a way Aaron hadn’t expected.

_ It’s not my job to fix this. _

His spoon hits the side of the bowl too loud when he drops it, annoyed with himself.

_ He doesn’t want my help. _

He scrubs blunt nails across the line of his jaw, beard scratching beneath his fingertips.

_ Stay out of it. _

He swallows down an argument with himself, biting harshly on the inside of his cheek.

____________________________________

Aaron’s become nocturnal in a way he knows his counselor would shake her head at, but he’s learned he only gets a few hours at a time as long as Robert’s sleeping, and his dreams are full of death and loneliness.

The Aarons in his memories have never found Robert.

So he grabs a few hours between five and seven, sometimes shown moments of past happiness, sometimes the late nights Robert is pulling at the office even though he doesn’t have any big projects on. 

Those hours are hard, because there’s so many notifications on Robert’s phone, Vic filling the screen with longer and longer messages about nothing that make Robert wet his lips and think  _ she’s worried about me  _ which makes his stomach ache with guilt.

Something in Aaron always wakes him up when Robert heads home.

And then he’s awake until Robert leaves in the morning. He’s taken to walking around, ducking into pubs and later clubs, grabbing drinks.

On Saturday he meets a bloke who’s not half bad looking, and who tells him he used to play football in League Two like that should make Aaron melt. 

Instead Aaron cocks his head and takes a sip of his beer, then turns the man down when his hand brushes along Aaron’s bicep and it makes a frisson of a burn along his spine.

He walks home, collapses into his couch, and curses Robert’s name as he scrolls through the television, searching for anything worth watching at three in the morning.

He settles on the second half of  _ Die Hard 2 _ and brings his feet up onto the sofa next to him, curling as he tries to lose himself in the explosions.

In two weeks Robert will be in the church in Emmerdale promising his life to Chrissie. And Aaron will be alone.

____________________________________

Someone is kissing Aaron awake.

_ Aaron.  _ Echoes through his mind, and there’s a beat before Aaron realizes he’s in Robert’s mind just moments before Robert recognizes the lips on his as Chrissie’s.

Aaron’s impressed with Robert’s self-control when he swallows down the shock instead of shoving her off him, instead pulling back and blinking at the hazy blur of Chrissie in front of him.

“You’re back?” Robert asks, trying to keep the frown off his forehead.

“I’ve got news, and I had to tell you before it got announced.” She smiles coyly, and scrapes her nails lightly across Robert’s chest. 

Robert’s skin responds to her touch, goose pimples sending a thrill of excitement even as his mind notices her hands are too soft, nails too glossy.

Aaron’s skin crawls.

Robert reaches up and tangles their hands together, her small delicate fingers fitting easily between his, his voice a low hum, “What news is so important you had to drive all the way home?”

She’s grinning, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she pulls back and announces, voice full of excitement, “They want me to run the London office!” 

Aaron can feel the muscles in Robert’s face go tight for a moment, his hand grip hers too firmly for a beat. 

_ She didn’t even ask you, again. _

“That’s wonderful.” He’s aiming for enthusiastic, but even if Aaron couldn’t feel the rolling tempest of his emotions he’d know that Robert’s anything but. There’s bile at the back of his throat, and he shifts so he’s sitting up and looking at her.

Chrissie rolls her eyes at him, pressing a kiss to his nose, “Don’t sulk, you’ll love London.”

_ She’s already said yes. _

Robert’s mind flashes to the studio he’d shown Aaron, his  _ plans _ .

“I thought you liked it here?” He tries to keep his voice measured, not wanting a fight.

Chrissie looks around like he means the flat, and sighs, “It will be a nightmare finding a place, London’s  _ so _ expensive, but I’ll be getting a raise, and daddy will gladly help us with the down payment.”

_ Life under Lawrence’s thumb.  _

Robert knows the answer before he asks, but there’s hope in his chest that maybe he can change her mind, maybe with time he could convince her that what they have is good for them both. “When do you need to decide?” 

She frowns at him like he’s asked an idiotic question and it reminds him so much of one of his school teachers that he wants to squirm away.

“They’ve given me today off to celebrate with you, contracts get signed tomorrow.”

She leans in, clearly ready to celebrate, but Robert puts a hand up between them. There’s so much anger coursing through him that Aaron is clenching his fists, can feel it making his heart race.

“You weren’t even going to ask me, where you?” Robert hisses out through clenched teeth.

She leans back and huffs, “It’s a wonderful opportunity for us, Robert. I thought you’d understand.”

Aaron wants to scream.

Robert just sets his shoulders and narrows his eyes, “You mean it’s a wonderful opportunity for  _ you _ . I don’t see anything in it for  _ me _ .”

The fire in Chrissie’s eyes is so impressive that even as he despises her Aaron can sort of see what Robert saw in her. 

“Well, seeing as how we’re going to be married, I thought that something that benefits me benefits us  _ both _ .”

“I have a job!”  _ I have plans. _

“There are ad agencies in London.” Her tone is so dismissive it makes Robert freeze.

_ I’m good at what I do. I worked to get where I am. I don’t want to start over. _

He swallows down his thoughts, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“I  _ like _ my job.” He looks at her, begging her to understand.

She rolls her eyes, “Selling logos to Manchester businesses. You can do better.” 

She reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, patting at his temple like he’s a child who needs assurance, “And in London there’ll be so many people for daddy to put you in touch with.”

_ More debt. I’ll never escape. _

Robert smacks his hand down onto the bed, shrugging off her hand as he tries to keep his voice calm, aware his mother is asleep not too far away, gesturing towards her room, “My whole family is here.”

Chrissie’s face softens at that. “I know.”

She sighs, putting a hand on his wrist, “We’ll have weeks, maybe months before they’ll need me full time. I can keep commuting until...”

_ Until she’s gone _ hangs in the air between them.

It makes Robert’s mouth go dry.

“I’m not going to make  _ plans _ for that.” He spits out, “Doctors are wrong all the time.”

There are hot angry tears pricking the edges of Robert’s eyes.

Chrissie opens her mouth, hands fluttering like she doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Robert bites, reaching for his phone and yanking it from the charger. 

He’s in the bathroom before Chrissie can speak, slamming the door and locking it shut.

He looks at himself in the mirror, hands shaking, and presses his palms to the counter.

_ She doesn’t respect you.  _ Robert’s mind is screaming.  _ She doesn’t care about what you want or think. _

Robert stares at the cut glass dish Chrissie puts her soap in. 

_ “It was my grandmum’s.” She’d said shyly when she moved in. “I know it’s not in style, but… I’d always loved it as a little girl.” _

For a moment Aaron holds his breath, trying to sense what Robert’s going to do, worried he’ll smash the ugly dish to pieces.

Robert surprises him by looking into his own eyes in the mirror, and there’s a moment when Aaron feels like Robert can see him, but it passes as Robert tracks his gaze across his own face, assessing every inch.

_ You could have anyone, with a mouth like that.  _ An echo of a man’s voice Aaron doesn’t recognize from Robert’s past.

He picks up his phone, and Aaron can feel that Robert wants to message him, can feel it in the strange way his stomach twists when he scrolls through his contacts.

_ Not there anymore, am I? And whose decision was that? _ He mocks the man he’s within, feeling a perverse thrill of victory even as Robert is clearly lost.

Robert scrolls up to C, and Aaron suddenly knows that the name Connor matches the voice in Robert’s head. 

_ “Sure I can’t tempt you to another round?” Connor looks fucked out, sitting on a grimy hotel bed while Robert buttons his shirt. _

_ “Can’t. Got a date.” Robert shrugs on his jacket, looking around for his shoes.  _

_ He intentionally ignores the fleeting look of hurt on Conner’s brow. Because Connor knows what he is, knows what he’s for, and Robert won’t feel bad about using his services when he needs to let off a little steam. _

Robert looks at himself in the mirror.  _ Not married yet, are you? _

Robert’s typing out a message, and the speed with which he gets back  _ Merchant Hotel room 203 _ makes Aaron sick to his stomach.

_ Give me two hours. _ Robert types back right before he puts his phone down and steps into the stream of the shower.

There’s a thrum of excitement in Robert’s veins, and Aaron has never been more grateful for the sound of a phone going off somewhere near his body.

____________________________________

Aaron is still sprawled on the couch,  _ Die Hard 3  _ half-way done, and his phone is ringing.

It’s an unknown number, and Aaron blinks and lets it go to voicemail.

He’s hit with the realization that in two hours Robert’s going to be in some seedy hotel room with Connor, and he can barely swallow around the lump in his throat.

He shuts his eyes as tight as he can and tries to calm his breathing down, tries to ignore the spike of jealousy in his gut.

He knows he shouldn’t think of it as different, but something primal in him rears its ugly head and he’s clicking Robert’s name before he can stop himself.

_ You can’t let him do this. _

He stands and paces, eyes looking at the clock, trying to gauge how long he has.

He picks up the phone again and clicks on Robert’s name, holding it to his ear as it rings.

“Hello?” Robert’s voice sounds echoey, like he’s still in the bathroom.

Aaron freezes, inhaling then exhaling, trying to think of what to say.

_ Don’t see him. Don’t go there.  _

He clears his throat.

“Aaron?”

It shouldn’t spark something so intense in Aaron that Robert can recognize something as little as a throat clear. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He barely scrapes from his own throat.

He’s suddenly struck by how sad and desperate he’ll sound. How  _ needy _ and  _ clingy _ . How he’s basically begging a man to come to his instead of cheating on his fiance with someone else.

And he pulls back, glances at the phone in his hand. “Pocket dial.”

He crosses his arms. “Sorry.”

Robert doesn’t respond, but he must hang up because the line goes dead.

Aaron sits back down, hating what he’s become.

____________________________________


	31. Chapter 31

It’s five in the morning, but Aaron knows he won’t get any more sleep, not when it might mean he could witness whatever Robert and  _ Connor _ get up to while Chrissie waits at home.

_ Wonder how he’s gonna explain that away. _

Aaron grits his teeth and exhales through them, he doesn’t have much on, it’s a Sunday, so he supposes he can manage on the few hours he grabbed before heading out last night and the couple he spent in Robert’s mind.

He stands and looks around the flat, determinedly ignoring the smudges of Robert’s existence he hasn’t bothered to remove; French press, charger, bottle of red wine on the counter, coffee beans roasted darker than Aaron buys.

His mouth tastes awful, the beer from the club souring as he’d slept.

He walks into the bathroom, meaning to brush his teeth, maybe take a bath and try and work out some of the ache of the week and his new broken sleep from his shoulders.

He meets his own gaze in the mirror, momentarily hit with deja vu as he remembers the way Robert had assessed himself. Hates that he can’t scrub away the tiny scrap of hurt he’d felt when all Robert saw was why people might fuck him.

When Aaron can focus on himself again he notices eyes are raw from the way he’s rubbed them too much, trying to keep his exhaustion at bay. His hair is mussed on one side, product wiped away on one of his sofa cushions.

He scrubs a hand through the rest of it, messing until the curls come through more clearly.

He can’t help but notice the circles under his eyes are deeper lately, shoulders hunched forward more, head down. 

He braces his hands on either side of the sink and stares at the drain.  _ Surprised anyone even looked at you, should’ve gone with the footballer  _ a familiar mocking voice teases through his mind.  _ Keep on like this and you’ll not even be able to pay for it. _

That makes Aaron jolt, pushing off the surface, because Robert’s on his way to fuck some bloke named Connor, and that knowledge makes Aaron bite his tongue so hard he can taste iron.

_ Sod it.  _ He turns, taking long strides to his kitchen, grabs a beer from the fridge, and plops down for the final bit of  _ Die Hard 3. _

He’s well and truly pissed by the middle of  _ Live Free or Die Hard _ , enough that he thinks he imagines the knock on his door.

For a moment he’s pretty sure it’s John McClane come to kill him, as he turns to place the steady thumping behind him.

He realizes how early it is and remembers his neighbor works nights, and stumbles up to the door, which has stopped making noise, and he’s already saying, “Sorry, Mr. Wozniak, I’ll keep it down.” As he opens the door.

It’s not the diminutive grey-haired Mr. Wozniak, it’s Robert, with a face like thunder, jaw set and eyes hard.

Aaron can blame the beers in his system for his slow reaction as Robert shoves in, looking behind Aaron, like someone else might be in the flat.

It’s that distrust that finally unfreezes Aaron’s tongue, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Robert is staring at the television, his profile all Aaron can see. Hands tight, shoulders set.

He looks primed for something.

Aaron raises an eyebrow, giving Robert time to reply.

Robert just stands stock still, staring at the screen, practically vibrating with tension.

Aaron’s done. It’s seven in the morning and he’s exhausted and Robert won’t even  _ look _ at him.

“So what lie are you telling her today?” He bites the words out, “Got called in to work? Left something on your desk?”

Robert flinches, frowning.

Aaron crosses his arms, trying to look like he’s thinking. “Or maybe you need to take a walk to think about London, or to cool off from your little spat?” 

Robert shakes his head, voice as tight at the muscle in his jaw. “I just left.”

That makes Aaron stop, “You what?”

“I left.” Robert gestures angrily, voice rising in volume, “I’m an adult. That’s my flat. I can come and go as I please. So, I left.”

Aaron wants to tease him for acting like a child running away from home, but he stops himself, knowing Robert’s feeling trapped enough as it is.

“And when did you decide to drive here instead of to  _ him _ ?” Aaron refuses to even say his name.

He supposes they’ve both become used to the strangeness between them when the knowledge doesn’t phase Robert, who just looks guiltily at the ground, “You know when.”

_ Guilty about Connor but not Chrissie, what is wrong with you? _

“Why’d you ring?” Robert asks back, making Aaron clench his jaw.

Aaron scrubs frustrated hands over his face, “You can’t just come round, Robert. I’m not some toy you get to pick up and put down whenever your misses hurts your ego.” 

Robert looks like he wants to interrupt so Aaron barrels on, “You’re the one that ended things. You’re the one that decided you’ve got a future with  _ her _ .”

Robert shifts his weight but his feet stay planted, “I know, but...” he stops, looking up at Aaron’s ceiling like it holds answers.

Aaron’s heart clenches a little in hope as Robert meets his eyes.

“I was wrong to call us off.” The admission sounds like it cost Robert something, but his gaze stays steady.

“We were good, me and you.” Robert’s voice is low, turning to face Aaron fully and make a tentative step closer. “I miss it. And I think you miss it too.” 

Aaron can’t keep from giving a small nod in response, even as he aches for more than that.

Robert takes the few steps to Aaron and if Aaron were a better man he’d pull back, push Robert to more convincing admissions, but as it is when Robert’s hands come up and hold his jaw, lips pressing fiercely to Aaron’s, crowding him back against the counter, all he can do is grab hold of Robert’s waist and pull him closer.

The chorus of  _ yes _ through Aaron’s bones is so loud it’s like it fizzles along his spine and drowns out everything else.

Robert’s hands don’t move from his face, angling Aaron’s head so he can deepen the kiss, arms bent between their chests, a quiet groan escaping Robert’s throat and barely reaching Aaron’s ears.

_ They’d been monks once, Robert hunched over illuminated manuscripts careful hand copying in black ink and Aaron tanning the leather for the covers. Long vows of silence making the tiny noises he could pull from the other man precious. Faint traces of iron vitriol dyeing Aaron’s hips, transferred from Robert’s fingerprints. _

Robert’s fingertips press harshly into Aaron’s jaw, one hand shifting to his neck, palm flat against Aaron’s thrumming pulsepoint.

_ They’d been unwilling warriors once too, opposite sides of a family battle that never seemed to end, generations of women dragged into marriages, children kidnapped and held for land. Foolish and bloody and eternal in a way only greed and hate can fuel. Aaron’s not even sure he loves his own blood enough to endure the harsh crack of the back of Robert’s hand on his cheekbone, arms pulled tight by a rope behind his back. _

_ Robert waiting until the castle’s asleep to creep down, loosen the bonds, press a regretful forehead to Aaron’s, noses brushing as they breathe together. Apology unsaid, but kissed into Aaron’s skin. _

Robert bites Aaron’s lip harshly, cracking them both back to the present, and Aaron’s done letting him control the moment, if this is what Robert came for, then Aaron can give as good as he gets.

He pulls back from Robert’s hold, steps back, and revels in the way Robert’s hands reach out for him as he backs up, pulling his shirt off as he heads to the bedroom.

Robert catches on fast, hands undoing shirt buttons as he follows.

When they’re in his room Aaron pulls Robert close, spinning them and tipping them down, pushing an exhale from Robert as Aaron lands half on and half off him.

Aaron uses his position to pin Robert down, hands pressing lightly on Robert’s upturned wrists, knees on either side of his thighs. He sees Robert take that in, the way his mouth falls open a little, pupils wide and dark. Sees him flex his hands, track his eyes across Aaron’s face.

For a moment he wonders if he’s about to get pushed back, if Robert will surge up and flip him onto his back, some futile show that he’s the boss here if nowhere else.

But Robert’s hands go limp, shoulders loose and easy. Aaron leans in, leaving a gap between them, and Robert’s eyes shut in anticipation, lips slightly parted. 

There’s faith and feelings there that Aaron can’t keep his mind from reading into, so instead he shuts it up by kissing Robert, pressing his weight down on the man, feeling Robert’s keen in his chest when he lines them up just right.

He tries to keep his mind blank, just catalogue every feeling, the thrill when Robert’s hands stay on the mattress when Aaron lets go, the shiver Aaron pulls from him when he skims his palms across Robert’s chest. 

He tries as hard as he can to not think about how fit Robert is, how perfect he looks under Aaron, how much Aaron wants him, because he fears that’s not all Robert will hear.

He listens as hard as he can for Robert’s mind, but all he gets is  _ want  _ and  _ need _ .

He mouths along the line of Robert’s hipbone, scrapes his beard across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, runs blunt nails down his leg to the back of Robert’s knee until Robert is panting with want, hands turned so his palms are to the sheets, gripping them so he won’t move.

He pauses, hands pressing down on hips, breathing over Robert, who raises his head to look at Aaron, swallowing thickly, holding his gaze.

There’s so much trust in his eyes, in the lazy way Robert rolls his hips, trying desperately to reach Aaron’s lips, but no real intent to break free.

“God, Aaron. Please!” Robert’s voice sounds wrecked, breaking the silent spell of the room. 

There’s a thrill in the power, and Aaron holds himself still for a moment more before sinking down as far as he can, Robert’s groan making him close his eyes, overwhelmed by everything Robert filling his senses; musky smell, bitter taste, warm skin.

Suddenly Robert can’t keep his mind quiet, a constant wash of curses and emotions over Aaron’s mind drowning out Robert’s spoken words.

_ I want you. You’re so good, always so good—Don’t fucking stop. Hold me down, I want to feel your hands tomorrow. God, I’d do anyth—. Yes, there. Sometimes I can’t remember before you— Need to see you. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.  _

Aaron opens his eyes, meeting Robert’s, and the flood of information doubles in intensity, not words any more, but passion and a flare of color blue that Aaron knows from looking in the mirror everyday fills his mind as Robert comes.

____________________________________

Robert’s kissing him lazily, like they’ve got all day, and Aaron lets himself revel in it, lets himself be pulled closer, blanket under his shoulder blades, sun filtering into Aaron’s room.

He doesn’t want to be the one to pull back.

Robert drapes himself over Aaron, tucking his face into Aaron’s shoulder and sighing.

It makes Aaron’s heart race when Robert reaches out and twists their fingers together, staring at the way their hands interlock.

“I don’t know how—” Robert’s voice is soft, and his breath shifts over Aaron’s chest. “I don’t want to live in London.”

Aaron closes his eyes briefly at the way Robert’s thumb moves across the back of his hand, across the bump of his knuckles. “I know.”

Robert pushes himself up, looking at Aaron, “I’ll figure something out.”

_ Leave her. Choose me. Stay with me.  _ Aaron squeezes his eyes shut, tries to hold the thoughts inside as best he can, nodding shakily.

“What time is it?” Robert’s voice sounds strained, and Aaron knows for sure he wasn’t able to keep all that inside, but he’s grateful Robert’s not saying anything.

_ This is all you get. _

Aaron turns to look. “Nearly nine.”

Robert nods distractedly, like he didn’t really care about the answer, but gets up and begins shuffling around the room, pulling back on his clothes.

There’s silence for a bit while Robert buttons his shirt and looks thoughtful, like he’s got something to say but can’t quite find out how to bring it up.

Aaron’s never been much for patience, but the last time he pushed Robert he lost him, so he worries a cuticle and shifts, propping himself up on the pillow behind him.

“I’m sorry.” The apology comes rushing out of Robert’s mouth, sudden in a way that makes Aaron forget to breathe. 

Robert himself looks shocked at what he settled on, then gestures at the room, “I know you’ve not been sleeping, and I know that’s on me.”

_ I won’t have you stay with me just so I won’t die from sleep deprivation. I don’t need your pity. _

“I was fine.” Aaron bites, and Robert looks surprised. 

He must see something on Aaron’s face, because he nods, then sticks his hands in his pockets, swaying a bit. “I know, I’m still sorry.”

_ For everything _ hangs around longer than Aaron can manage.

“I’ll call you?” Robert looks uncertain, like he thinks Aaron has any say in the matter.

“Yeah.” Aaron nods, watching as Robert lets himself out of Aaron’s flat.

And Aaron is left, still wrapped in sheets and trying to figure out what’s been decided, but he can’t quite get a hold on where Robert is in all this. 

In the end he decides to roll over and sleep the day away instead.

____________________________________


	32. Chapter 32

The ground is well-packed dust and tiny pebbles beneath Aaron’s soles. The cart beside him kicking up clouds behind them, the rough hide of Aaron’s mule under his palm as he walks back from market.

He’d had a full cart of wares that morning, fine meshwork that wealthier ladies like for their snoods, delicate thin wires that gentlewomen use for fine embroidery. The profits will make the smith smile toothlessly, clapping Aaron on the shoulder and giving him his share as an apprentice.

He glances at the cart, empty apart from some gold and silver he needs for his work, and the cheese and fruit he’d bought for his supper, carefully bartered for dried plums sweet as if it were summer.

Aaron thinks of the cheesemonger, eyes like the sea, tall and broad enough to shift tall stacks of wheels as they sold. His hair is sandy and longer than Aaron’s, tied into a low knot at the back of his neck by a thin cord of leather.

The feel of his hand brushing against Aaron’s had given Aaron enough pause that he knows he will have something new to omit in confession on Sunday.

The mule brays beside him, and looks at him as if he’s annoying her. He smacks her side lightly and picks up his pace. They both need to be home before dark.

____________________________________

Now that the door’s been reopened Aaron had half-expected Robert to act like nothing’s changed, but he’s shocked by a buzz of his phone at midday.

_My first client was my mum._

It’s such an incongruous statement that it makes Aaron stare in silence for a moment before he types back. _what did she want done?_

He tries to imagine Sarah Sugden needing an advertisement.

_She wanted to start a children’s storytime at the library. Paid me ten quid to make a poster. I’m pretty sure I cut out the letters from her magazines._

That makes Aaron smile at his phone. _proper practice for ransom notes_

Robert replies with an emoji of an eye roll and _Dingle to the core._

That makes Aaron huff in amusement, _gotta start early._

The phone is silent for a moment, and Aaron takes a sip of tea, wondering what Robert’s thinking.

_I still have that poster. She had it framed for me and gave it to me when I got my first job._

He didn’t expect that, the raw honesty of Robert’s message. It thuds against his sternum like a blow.

 _is it any good?_ He types back, trying to lighten the moment before Robert retreats.

_God no, I used glitter. And Panini stickers._

That makes Aaron laugh aloud, loudly slurping his tea as he replies one handed _fancy_

He can almost picture Robert’s grin, _Only the best for mum._

He’s smiling as he thinks about his response when he gets message after message at increasing speed, this time from a number he doesn’t know. 

_Hi Aaron! It’s Vic. From the pub._

_Your mum gave me your number so I could tell you all my shifts for the week I’m off._

_Hope you’re still fine with that!_

_I know you said you’d take the weekend ones, but I wanted to let you know all of them incase you wanted to trade off one or the other with Marlon._

_Imagine you’ve got better things to do than spend your weekend nights in some old pub :P_

_Oh my gosh._

_Please don’t tell your mum I called it old!!_

_I just meant I bet you have better places to be than Emmerdale!_

It looks like she’s typing more and he’s already scrubbing a hand over his mouth as he smiles at her stumbling barrage of messages. 

_she wont hear nowt. im no grass_ he types out, hoping to stop the constant notifications. He’s relieved when the typing notification disappears.

_whole weekend is fine, not got anything on, ill get my mate to come round._

He thinks Adam’ll join him for a couple quiet nights at the Woolie if Aaron pays for his beer. And drives them there. 

_You’re the best! IOU an incredible burger._ _  
_ _Oh! What’s your favorite place in Manchester?_   
I’ll have Rob pick you up a gift card as a thanks.

Thats when it hits him, why in a week he’ll be sitting in his mum’s pub, pulling pints for people he’s known since he was a surly kid with a Gameboy in the corner. 

Robert will be out on his stag-do.

That makes his hands clench briefly around his phone, a pang of pain in his chest.

He leaves both Sugdens’s texts unanswered as he places the mobile face down and pulls one knee up to his chest, resting his chin on it.

He’s got two weeks until Robert’s married, and he knows he has to do something.

He just doesn’t know what yet.

____________________________________

Aaron’s sleep schedule is so broken that he shouldn’t be surprised when one blink he’s watching _Bake Off_ with a pizza and the next he’s sitting in a modern chair that is digging its uncomfortable edges into the back of Robert’s thighs.

Chrissie is leaning against the arm of the couch, feet tucked up next to her, and Robert has to wonder if she’s practiced this pose because she looks like a reclining Renaissance statue. _Venus de Manchester_.

She’s in one of his jumpers, wide neck showing her collar bones, and _she knows_ how much he likes that. Likes the little signs that she’s as much his as she wants him to be hers.

“I’m sorry I sprung all this on you.” She meets his eyes, voice impossibly reasonable. “I didn’t even know they were serious until this week.”

_A week. A week and she didn’t even mention it._

He tries to keep the wince off his face. He closes his eyes, “I just can’t understand why you’d sign without even talking to me.” 

She nods, and Robert has a flutter of hope that she’ll understand. That she gets why he’s mad.

“I really did think you’d think this was a good idea.” She pouts prettily, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from the jumper.

She looks up at him, slight frown on her brow. “You’ve always said you wanted to have your own agency.”

Robert’s hands clutch on his thighs. “Yes, Chrissie. Mine. My _own_ . Not Sugden and _White_.” 

He is working to keep his voice calm and quiet, _Don’t wake her. She’s trying to keep her strength._ The strain in his throat makes Aaron want to cough.

Chrissie’s eyes narrow, her jaw tightening, hands pulling into the sleeves too long on her arms, body more rigid than before. “Forgive me Robert, but I was under the impression that _we_ were starting a life _together_.”

Robert’s mouth opens before he can think, “Me and _you_ , not me and your _father_.” He can’t keep the scorn for Lawrence hidden.

_The man had once laughed loudly at a party, introducing Robert to some associates as his daughter’s latest arm candy. The nearly identical group of older men had guffawed in what felt like unison. In response Robert had fucked the man who ran the coat check and wiped his sticky hand off on Lawrence’s fine wool._

Chrissie’s feet hit the floor as she sits up straight, ankles crossed, mouth pursed, no longer the languid temptress, now someone harder, more serious. 

“Forgive me. We don’t all have your father issues.” Her consonants are clipped even shorter with her anger, well-trained elegance gone. “I happen to like that I can rely on mine.”

Her words are like a slap, his whispered truths thrown at him so callously. They catch Robert completely off guard. 

Suddenly he’s seething, entire chest filled with rage, and it’s so familiar Aaron wonders if Robert’s about to punch something. Wonders if his own anger has leeched into Robert, but no, this is fury from deep in Robert’s gut and Aaron’s never seen him like this before.

He’s not Aaron, so instead of grabbing the hideous metal vase from the table beside him and launching it into the nearest wall Robert stands, hands clenched so hard Aaron can feel Robert’s nails digging into the flesh of his palms. 

Aaron feels the flush on Robert’s cheeks, the rush of heat to his extremities, the catch of breath in his chest as he holds himself eerily still.

He can’t read what Robert’s about to do, but it makes his skin prickle with panic.

“Because you’re the model of a healthy family dynamic, Chrissie. Woman so blind to the world around her that she can’t see the way her dad looks at her fiance when he thinks no one can see.” 

_Early in their relationship Chrissie and Robert had stayed at her family home in Southern France, summer heat driving Robert to swim most mornings. He’d caught Lawrence at his window one morning, watching. Robert hadn’t said anything, even when he lay in the sun and he could still see the man’s silhouette. He’d watched Lawrence closer from then on, feeling the sticky slide of his gaze like tar._

Chrissie’s mouth opens in shock, and there’s a thrill of victory down Robert’s spine even as Aaron’s mind is screaming at him to stop. 

“Why do you think he’s had so many promising young men he’s ‘mentoring’? Handsome chancers who’ll do anything to rise up through the ranks.” Aaron can feel the sneer on his face, viscous words spilling out like poison. “Even get a rise out of the old man.”

Chrissie’s face is no longer the prim mask, it’s furious and red, disgust and hatred etched in every line. Eyes glossy with tears.

This time the slap is very real, and Robert’s not surprised by it at all.

____________________________________

Aaron wakes up with his face smarting from Chrissie’s blow and a low hum of nausea.

Robert had used outing a man like it was a weapon. Like he could just spew some suspicions as a way to win an argument.

It makes his stomach roll, bitter taste on his tongue.

No one deserves that.

The secondhand guilt pushes him back to a memory he’s worried over so many times it would have worn edges if it were tangible. He’s even dreamed of it recently, one of the small scenes his mind loves to worry over in the flashes of memory he knows they share.

_He’d told Adam once that he’d been seeing a guy from the corner market. Saul, one of the cashiers. Nice bloke, quiet but with playful eyes. They’d only been out a couple of times, hadn’t talked about anything serious, but Aaron had the sense that Saul’s family didn’t know much about his life. Just wanted him to work until he finished his doctorate they were paying for._

_Adam and Aaron were at the market, chatting in line, crisps and dip and cans balanced precariously in their arms for a small Fifa tournament. Adam had looked around and said “He here? That guy you’re seeing?”_

_And Aaron had shaken his head, “Nah, Saul doesn’t work Fridays. But we’ve got plans for tomorrow night after he has some family thing.”_

_And the woman checking them out had stiffened, face blanching. She then placed the scanner back on its rest and crossed her arms. “Get out.” Her voice was hard and flinty. “You’re barred.”_

_Adam had blustered, looking around, “You what?”_

_She pointed to the door, “You come into my shop, spreading_ filthy _rumors about my son?” She jerked her head at Aaron, “I_ knew _you were one of those. Get. Out.”_

_Adam had grabbed Aaron before he did anything to get himself in trouble, and they’d left their armfuls on the counter. Adam had hugged Aaron close to his side, palm on his shoulder as he told him the owner was out of her mind. Later that night Aaron’s heart had thudded in his chest as he pulled his phone out to message Saul and let him know what had happened._

_Saul hadn’t responded. Aaron had never seen him at the shop again, but he couldn’t miss the wedding announcement posted proudly inside the window only a few months later. A photo of Saul and a small dark haired woman who the caption said was Ruth._

Aaron puts his face in his hands, feeling the gnaw of guilt even years later. Wonders if Saul could have been happy if he’d just finished out his studies and gotten out from under his parents’s watchful eyes.

He knows he didn’t ruin Saul’s life, but for a while it had felt like it.

And Robert had done it so unthinkingly.

His phone buzzes at his side.

He looks down at it, seeing Robert’s name, and opens the message.

_I know you saw all that. At least it felt like you did._

Aaron swallows down the shock, just stares at his phone turning over the idea that Robert knows what Aaron feels like when he’s nestled into Robert’s skin. 

He types out _no one deserves that._

The reply is slow, like Robert’s thinking about what to say instead of just reacting.

_I’m not sorry, and you wouldn’t be either if you knew the man._

_But I know I crossed a line._

It’s as close to regret as Aaron thinks Robert can feel about what he did, and he doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. There’s something small in Aaron that’s moved that Robert is apologizing to him, but he’s struggling having seen this streak of vengeance.

For the second time that day he leaves Robert’s message unanswered.

____________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to the daddy issue expert, @jonny-versace, for his advice.


	33. Chapter 33

Robert’s legs are too long. He keeps bumping his knees against the underside of his school desk, ankles awkwardly knocking against table legs when he sits down. His wrists and elbows, bonier than last month, are covered in marks from where he’s tapped into doors and counters.

His uniform’s a bit short at the ankles and his jumper no longer lets him tuck in his thumbs. Sarah keeps giving him assessing looks and he can feel her counting up the money it’ll cost to get him all new clothes. The budget hadn’t been ready for another growth spurt.

So he hunches a little, wears his longest socks, shoves his sleeves up past his elbows and hides the shivers from the cold.

Vic needed a new winter coat, and that matters more than the unimpressed looks he’s getting from Diana in maths when just last term she’d been slipping notes to Tina about him.

He’s waiting at the fence for Vic, planning on their walk home, and trying to ignore the aching ever-present hunger that’s filled him for  _ months _ . Never enough food, all of it going to growing longer instead of filling out, none of the smooth muscles of the other boys in the locker rooms.

He spots Vic, smiling and round in her bright blue puffer jacket, she’d said she would look like Violet Beauregarde from  _ Willy Wonka _ , and Robert can’t say she doesn’t look the part.

Her smile falters as a group of girls pass her, one brushes close, and Vic shrinks back like she’s been hit. Her face twists up and her cheeks turn pink.

Robert sees red, tracking the group of Vic’s classmates.

He recognizes one, her brother Paul is in his form. Can’t pass a maths test to save his life, and he’s asked for help a few times because Robert’s top of the class.

Vic’s close now, wiping her nose on the back of her hand, smile shaky. 

“Everything alright?” Robert pulls her in, squeezing her against his side.

He can feel her shake her head, “They told me I’d better keep the coat on all the time, since at least it makes boys wonder if I’m just bundled up instead of a fat cow.” She’s sniffling even more, and it makes Robert’s heart twist to hear.

He turns and crouches, pulling her into a tight hug, “Those girls? They’re just jealous you can pull off a color like that.”

Her cheek is wet where it hits the side of his neck, “You have to say that. You’re my brother.”

He pulls back, tries to keep the anger off his face, “Well, as your brother they should know only  _ I _ can ever bully you.”

“Shut up.” Vic rolls her eyes, pushing him back a little, and he reacts dramatically, like he’ll fall over. 

She looks a little brighter though, and Robert’s already planning exactly how he’ll let Paul cheat off him, then change all the answers at the last moment.

_ Paul’s close to being demoted down a level already, a zero ought to be the final nail in his coffin. _

A week later when Vic comes home, eyeing him suspiciously, he just hugs her close and tells her he’s always got her back.

____________________________________

Aarok wakes up with the slithering end of Robert’s anger still in his veins. His knuckles are white from clenching his hands into fists, his joints creak when he stretches back out.

His jaw is tense like he’s been holding it tight, so he presses firmly into the base, massaging the muscles, trying to calm down, to forget the teenage rage and fierce brotherly protection Robert had been so full of.

It takes him a moment to realize that he’d never been Aaron in the dream. Never once felt like he was in a different skin.

It’s unsettling, the idea of losing himself entirely like that. 

He rubs his hands along his upper arms, feeling the way his muscles feel, the way his palms are rough across the skin, the warmth of his arms hugging his own body.

He doesn’t miss being Robert. It had felt as natural as being Aaron.

His phone buzzes, and he knows it’s Robert before he even thumbs the screen on to see  _ Tomorrow? _

The message before is the unanswered one from the day before, and Aaron feels a pinprick of victory in his gut that Robert’s reaching out again.

_ got work  _ he types back, then waits for a beat, watching the typing notification appear before he interrupts  _ but im off at 4. _

The notification disappears, then pops back up before  _ Meet at yours at 5?  _ Flashes across his screen.

Aaron licks his lips, looks at the ceiling, does a mental calculation of his day and risks a  _ bring food _ in reply.

Robert, the utter prat that he is, sends back  _ You know I aim to satisfy ;)  _

Aaron cannot keep the groan of disgust from leaking out, both with Robert and with himself for the spike of heat in his gut that the words cause.

____________________________________

Aaron’s day is unremarkable. Tire changes, new brake pads installed, the odd headlight bulb replaced. It’s dull and calm and leaves him entirely too much time to think about Robert, so he calls Mark over and asks him about Nick’s recent revenge so his prattle will keep him distracted.

“I got a safety deposit box. I’m going to grab it and sneak it there, then freeze the key in a block of ice in the back of my freezer. Hide it behind some bags of peas. He hates peas, he’ll never touch ‘em.” Mark’s doing his job wonderfully while Aaron searches for the problem in Mr. Zarren’s brake line.

“May even buy a second bottle, hide that somewhere halfway decent, so he goes down that line for a while, then once he—” Mark breaks off, but Aaron’s waist deep in the engine block, so he can’t do anything but wait for his boss to pick back up.

“Hello ma’am, how can we be of service today?” Mark’s got his customer voice on, so Aaron stretches to feel the connection, searching for corrosion with his fingers.

“I was hoping I could speak with your Aaron.” 

Aaron’s blood goes cold as he recognizes the voice. 

_ Sarah. _

He can hear Mark gearing up to run interference, so he pulls himself out from the engine and clears his throat, “I can’t find the problem. I’ll take my break and come back.”

Mark looks at him, a question etched into his brow, but Aaron shakes it off.

When Aaron meets Sarah’s eyes he’s struck by how kind they are. There’s pity there, and it opens a gaping pit in his stomach, but he swallows the fear down, choosing instead to grab his thermos of tea and follow the slow pace of Sarah Sugden.

She’s quiet until they reach the bench they’d sat on when she last visited, and he doesn’t know what that means, but if he had to guess she just doesn’t know where to begin.

She sits, a little tightening at the edges of her mouth and around her eyes as she does. 

He finds himself wanting to offer her a hand.

She gestures next to her, and he sits.

They remain like that, looking not at each other, but out to the small green patch before them.

“Chrissie’s told the London office she’ll commute two days a week for the next six months, and work from the Manchester site the other three.” Sarah says, a downturn at the edges of her mouth. 

Aaron nods silently, grip tightening. He’s not really surprised Chrissie’s given in, he’d not pegged her as someone who’ll give Robert up lightly.

That she’s still taking the job makes him admire her a bit, if he’s honest. 

“She’s also bought him a car.” 

That makes Aaron raise his brow, feeling that familiar swirl of emotions in his chest.

Victory because Robert doesn’t want to be bought, but fear because he knows he’ll never be able to give Robert that level of security and status, and ever since the dream last night he’s realized how much Robert  _ craves _ certainty that he’ll always be able to protect his family, that he’ll always be able to provide for them.

_ And for himself. _

He realizes he’s been quiet for a long time. “Nice wedding gift.” He croaks out.

Sarah looks at him, he can see it at the edge of his vision. “Normally I’d say it was a bit over the top, but to each their own.”

Aaron huffs out a humorless laugh. 

He tries to assure himself. To hold onto the way Robert had felt when Chrissie had suggested the hand out from her father, the way Robert wants to stand on his own, the hurt that he’d felt when Chrissie hadn’t understood. Hadn’t  _ known _ him.

“It’s a 64 Aston Martin DB5.” Sarah sighs when Aaron blinks blankly. “Same as Bond in  _ Goldfinger. _ It’s been his dream car since he and I first watched the films when he was ten.”

It’s perfect, of course. Exactly the right gift to show that she  _ listens _ , that she  _ cares _ , that she  _ loves _ him.

Something wrenches tight in Aaron’s chest. He feels like he’s full of rubber bands about to snap under the stress.

“You here to ask me to take a look at it?” He swallows thickly. “Make sure the antique’s safe to drive?”

He knows he didn’t keep the venom from his words, and there’s a spike of guilt when he sees Sarah pull back like he’d bitten her.

“No, Aaron.” She sighs, and it makes him look at her. Really look, through his eyes not Robert’s, and see how frail she’s gotten. The way she looks drawn and tired. 

“I came here to tell you not to let him break your heart.” 

_ Can’t break it, not when it’s the same as his. _

Aaron swallows. “I’m alright, really.”

She shakes her head, “I’d hoped he would see on his own what he’s doing, but I think there’s more of Jack in him than either of us would like to admit.”

Aaron flashes to Robert’s memories of the looming man. The way all of them drip with loathing and fear.

Sarah’s still watching him. “I don’t know what he’s told you, but he wasn’t a monster. Least, not always. He used to make me feel so loved. Even when he was playing around.” There’s a wry turn to her mouth, “Especially then.”

Aaron’s mind is full of the texts Robert’s been sending all day.  _ I can’t wait to see you. I want to feel you for the rest of the week. I need to taste you everywhere. _

Knowing that at the same time he’s been drooling over his new car, lipstick staining his cheek as Chrissie leaves, wedding bells still waiting to be rung.

It makes his mouth go sour as he spits out, “Fuck this.” and stands up quickly.

Sarah’s brows raise, her mouth opening to reply, but Aaron shakes his head and averts his gaze, “My break’s over. I’ve got to go.”

“Aaron!” She calls out behind him, but she’s sick and Aaron’s quick when he needs to be. He arrives back at the garage without another word, and Mark’s there, looking worried.

Aaron frowns, shrugging his shoulders up, and he’s never been more grateful to have a boss like the older man than when Mark nods brusquely and wipes his hands off on a rag. “I’m going to lunch. Feel free to close up while I’m out and just work on what’s here. You’re in no condition to talk to customers.” 

Aaron clenches his jaw and nods, taking long strides to the car he’s been avoiding all day because the seats need to be taken out to be replaced. It’s tough work, but he wants the distraction.

He hears Mark close up behind him, and wipes his eyes, tears and grease mixing slickly on his cheeks.

Tomorrow night he’ll make Robert choose, and if it’s Chrissie, then Aaron’s through.

____________________________________


	34. Chapter 34

Aaron’s sitting on the beach, feet buried deep in the sand, a massive pile of treasures next to him. Sea glass and shells and even some tiny old coins his mum says are called halfpennies. He’s hot, sun baking down on his shoulders, but he’s never been so happy.

The salt is drying on his skin, making him itch a bit, and he knows he’ll be pink all day tomorrow, but for once the itching at his back has let up, and his mum promised him two whole weeks with her, and tonight they’re having fish and chips and ‘as much ice cream as we can eat’ she’d said.

He smiles up into the sun, brilliant white behind his lids as he lets his face warm.

“How’s my little pirate?” Her voice startles him, and he looks over his shoulder, bending his elbows, and she’s there, upside down to his eyes, and with two cones in her hands.

He flops back, hitting the sand, hands reaching up for a cone, “Arr!”

She sits on the towel next to him, and they watch the tide rushing out as Aaron licks melting drips off his hands and tries not to eat too much sand.

He shows her the rock he found with a weird bug in it, and she tells him that it’s a fossil, and that she’ll take him to a museum some time to see a massive one.

They gather everything up in a bag, and sit on a picnic table, newspaper-lined baskets filled to the brim with chips, Aaron’s eyes wide as he gasps at how much she lets him have. 

_Da always says too much fat and sugar make me ‘unmanageable.’_

The hot flakey fish is delicious, and his mum even laughs at the joke he heard from Billy at school that Gordon said wasn’t funny, and as the sun sets and everything is orange and pink he can’t help himself, blurting out “This was the best day _ever_!”

She hugs him tight, and there’s something sad in her voice that’s muffled above him, “For me too, love. For me too.”

____________________________________

Aaron wakes up, the taste of the sea still a ghost on his tongue. 

He hasn’t had that dream in a long time, but he used to try and disappear into it on hard days. On the days when his father shut him in his room, or dragged him to doctors’ offices all day, he’d try and remember what flavor of cone she’d gotten him. 

On the worst days he’d held the fossil tight in his palm and felt the edges poke into his skin, remembering that his mum loved him. That she knew about his... troubles, and she _still_ loved him.

He knows Robert was there too, knows with a certainty that shocks him, even though he hadn’t felt him, not really.

It’s like remembering something and knowing your arm was there too, even if it’s just a flash of a moment and your arms were by your side the whole time.

An awareness of a constant.

He shakes his head and frowns, knowing that such musings won’t make whatever happens tonight any easier.

For all that he has Robert in every one of his cells, he’s not sure.

He laughs bitterly at himself. _Aaron Dingle can’t get anyone to stay with him._ The mocking hiss of hate cuts through his mind. 

The warm glow of the memory is already fading, and he’s got a day of work between him and whatever happens, so he places his bare feet on the carpet and stands, shoving any worries he can into the recesses of his mind, not needing them at the moment.

____________________________________

Aaron grits through the day like he’s on autopilot, feeling like he’s barely there even as he changes out the oil in a car and rotates tires and nods, unhearing, at Mark’s stories.

He eats his lunch but it may as well be sawdust and mud for all he tastes of it.

It feels like minutes or maybe weeks before he’s back in his flat and showering, scrubbing off the day and stomach souring as he tries to imagine words he could say to convince Robert to…

 _To stay._ _  
_ _To stop._ _  
_ _To be mine._   
To love me back.

He’s not sure which he can even begin to ask for, not wanting to push Robert too hard, make him run away from whatever Aaron’s offering.

By the time he’s towelling off there’s only a few minutes until Robert’s due to arrive, so he pulls on a deep blue jumper and runs a hand through his hair, trying to get the beginning of curls in line.

Robert’s knock at the door startles Aaron even as he’s waiting for it.

When he opens the door the smell of fried food hits him almost as hard as the sight of Robert. He's wearing the maroon jumper he borrowed from Aaron what feels like ages ago.

“Fish and chips. Been craving them all day.” Robert shrugs, one shouldered, and waves his hand towards the bags, a half-smile on his lips.

Aaron tries to keep the fondness from his eyes, but he knows he doesn’t manage it. Instead he nods, bringing his hands into his sleeves, and stepping aside so Robert can come in.

He can’t help but lean in when Robert’s shoulder brushes his, walking far closer than he needs to just to enter.

He can almost feel the sigh of contentment from deep in Robert when they touch.

Robert moves easily in Aaron’s kitchen, reaching up and grabbing plates, hip checking the silverware door closed after he pulls out some cutlery. 

Aaron just leans back against the counter, watching closely, “Who uses plates for fish and chips?”

“Adults.” Robert tuts, grabbing vinegar from the cabinet by Aaron’s shoulder, one hand on Aaron’s hip as he reaches across Aaron’s body and presses close. 

Aaron wants to lean in, chase Robert’s lips, pull them together, but instead he just puts a hand up and brushes it down Robert’s upper arm, feeling the soft wool under his hand.

Robert looks down, light eyelashes drawing Aaron’s eyes up from where his palm is on Robert’s warm arm.

“Just felt like wearing it. Figured I could get it back to you that way.” Robert’s voice is low, and he seems stuck on Aaron’s hand.

 _Wanted you with me._ His mind echoes in Aaron’s.

 _I am with—_ memories of his conversation with Sarah cuts through Aaron’s instinctual response, making him pull his hand back, stuff it into his pocket, croak out angrily, “Sure she won’t notice when you come home wearing something different?”

Robert blinks, a small crease forming between his brows. “I hadn’t thought about it.” 

He pauses, looking down at himself, “Suppose I can just say I spilled ink on it and ruined it.”

The easy lie brings bile burning up Aaron’s throat making his voice dark and angry. “Just another thing she doesn’t know, eh?”

Robert steps back, head tilted slightly, “Aaron _—_ ”

“How many lies, Robert? How many?” He pushes his hands deeper into his pockets, keeping himself from grabbing Robert and shaking him.

“They’re all for _us_ .” Robert’s voice is soft and his hand comes up to cup Aaron’s jaw, and Aaron _wants_ to lean in, to hear the promises in the words, but he can’t, so he shifts his head away. 

Robert’s face falls, “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“No.” Aaron’s had it, he’s been silent so long, and Robert’s so adept at slithering out of every scrape, every shot a near miss. “No, you listen to me.”

He’s shocked when Robert shuts his mouth, teeth snapping with an audible clack, and the retreat is almost calming except he can feel Robert’s mind working, whirling gears and calculations.

“Please.” Aaron’s embarrassed of the slight give in his voice, the way it wobbles on the vowel.

Robert stills, eyes softening, swallowing thickly.

It’s all the opening that Aaron thinks he can get, so he inhales deeply and lets the words he’s needed to say out, “Don’t get married.”

Robert’s face hardens, jaw tightening, mouth pinching. He spits out a sharp “What?”

Aaron licks his lips, tries to keep his voice steady despite the quaver he feels in the back of his throat, “I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong.”

“You _knew—_ ” Robert exhales in slight frustration, “This isn’t fair, Aaron, you knew what you were getting into.”

 _Unlike Chrissie._ Aaron barely swallows down, shaking his head, “I didn’t, though.”

Robert has the gall to look confused at that, mouth opening to reply before Aaron cuts him off. “I had no idea, not really.”

Aaron steps in slightly, barely a lean, but needing Robert to understand. “I can’t stand around and watch you make the biggest mistake of your life.”

Robert steps back, like Aaron’s slapped him. “Chrissie isn’t a _mistake_.”

The automatic defense of her is what makes Aaron’s mouth go dry, makes him step in, reach out but not grab Robert, just pause in midair between them. 

Robert doesn’t move, eyes conflicted as he watches Aaron’s hands. “Why?”

Aaron searches Robert’s face for more than a simple question. 

“Why are you making this…” Robert gestures at the air between them, “Complicated?”

_Does he not know?_

Aaron steps in, feeling the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes. “You know. You have to.”

Robert looks down, eyes unfocused on Aaron’s chest, shaking his head, and Aaron can feel the radiation of _don’t don’t don’tdon’tdon’t_ coming off him in waves.

“I love you, Robert.” 

It tumbles out Aaron’s mouth before he can hold it in, the words pressing against his voice box even as he tries to hold them back.

Even looking down, Robert can’t keep his mouth from falling slightly open, his eyes coming up and widening in shock. _Stop stop stopstopstop_ buffets off of Aaron’s chest but he doesn’t want to.

“I _love_ you.” It feels better the second time, less weight on his chest, less of a block in his throat. “And I think you feel the same.”

 _I can’t I can’t I can’t._ It’s not a denial, but it’s far from a confession and the silence stretches out between them, aching and frosty, and Aaron’s chest feels like it’s caught in a vice with every moment Robert stands there, shaking.

“You’re—” Robert’s voice is weak, wavering, “You’re confused.”

_Other hims have said that before, to other yous._

Aaron straightens, feeling more certain and grounded than he has since he met Robert. “I’m not. I know what I feel.”

Robert’s buzzing, his pulse quicker and Aaron can _feel_ it, can feel the blood pounding in their ears. 

“This. Us.” Robert shakes his head, stepping away, putting what feels like walls between them, “It isn’t _real_. It’s all some mad cosmic joke.”

Aaron turns his mouth down, “Is that what this feels like to you? A joke?”

Robert blinks numbly.

“Because I’m not laughin’.” Aaron crosses his arms, and hunches in his shoulders. 

“We’ve booked a venue, we have _caterers_ coming, my mum has a dress and Vic’s been reviewing the DJ’s set list for weeks.” Robert’s chest is tight, his words breathy. 

Aaron can’t keep himself from rolling his eyes, “Like Chrissie’ll miss the money.”

Robert sneers, “Not that it matters, but it’s not about that. People have made plans. I won’t _disappoint_ them.”

Aaron can hear the _I won’t disappoint her_ laced through Robert’s words, but it doesn’t feel like he can care about it. As it is Aaron curls in, hugging his arms to himself, “Just me, then.”

Robert runs a frustrated hand through his hair, ruffling the front in a way Aaron knows he hates, in a way Chrissie does whenever she thinks he’s being _adorable_.

“I am getting married, Aaron. To a gorgeous woman who _doesn’t_ haunt my dreams and make me feel like I don’t know where or _when_ I am. To someone who chose me, who wanted me, without a _millenia_ of baggage and pressure!” 

“She doesn’t _know_ you.” Aaron can’t keep the whine from his voice, the way his hands ache to grab for Robert.

“She has time to learn! That’s what _normal_ relationships are. You learn things about each other. You argue and you figure things out and you don’t read each other’s mind.” Robert’s voice is tense and louder than he means it to be, and Aaron’s hands are in fists at his sides.

“Sure, and maybe while you’re waiting for her to hear a _single word you say_ you can move to London together, work for whatever connections she can get from her dad behind your back, and the two of ya can come back every other weekend to see Vic.” Aaron knows he’s being cruel, but he can’t hold it in anymore. “Maybe she’ll even let you come up for the big anniversaries, put some flowers on Sarah’s grave and—”

Robert’s right in Aaron’s face, eyes full of fury, “Don’t.” It’s said through gritted teeth, seeped in pain.

Aaron brings his hands up and cups Robert’s face in his palms, fury hissing out of him at the contact. 

_Back in that storm, that maddening horrible storm, with Robert covered in blood before him and the pain of a lightning strike at his back, trying to hold on even as the wind picks up around them and he doesn’t know what is happening, but he knows he’s aching for someone who is him and them and everything inside his mind is reaching for something that’s been torn away._

“Come on, Rob. It’s _us_.”

Robert’s face shakes against his palms, long fingers holding Aaron’s wrists in firm circles, pushing him back.

_The storm tears them apart in the end, even as they cling to each other desperately. And afterwards they’re alone and stranded in a harsh and unfamiliar world._

“I’m not some dreamy little girl looking for her star-crossed lover, and I’ve remembered enough to know where this ends every time.”

_So many deaths and broken hearts and achingly lonely existences._

Robert’s voice is too controlled, too calm, and when Aaron blinks away the tears threatening his vision Robert’s looking over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m getting married next week.”

_A solid metal door slams down between them, the clanging echo battering against Aaron’s mind._

He moves Aarons arms down, straightening his shoulders. Aaron can’t read him, can’t tell what’s going on behind his eyes, it feels like pushing up against an invisible wall.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.” Robert’s voice is devoid of anything, empty in a way Aaron’s never heard it before.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he just nods. “Fine.”

Robert avoids his eyes and moves to the door before pausing and pulling off the jumper, handing it out to Aaron, then tossing it onto the couch when Aaron’s too slow to respond.

“Bye, Aaron.”

The door closes, leaving Aaron in his empty flat that’s still filled with the smell of fish and chips. It’s so strong it makes Aaron’s stomach turn, the air in his lungs feeling greasy and cloying.

He tosses the lot in the bin, and lies down on the couch face down, holding in a scream.

____________________________________


	35. Chapter 35

Aaron can’t remember his dreams when he wakes up. He doesn’t feel like they’ve been nightmares or full of longing or even particularly strange. As far as he can tell he closes his eyes and then, when his alarm goes off, he opens them.

He wakes up rested but emotionless, no laugh still caught in his throat, no clench of forgotten pain in his jaw.

After two nights he’s shocked by how much he misses the excitement, the  _ potential _ each dream had.

He bottles the concerns away, shoves them deep down, and tries to get on with his days.

_ You’re the one that made this happen. Pushing him. _

Aaron frowns at his inner voice, knows he’d done the right thing, finally. If Robert can’t- 

If Robert  _ won’t _ love him back, then Aaron needs space. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and it makes him grit his teeth in frustration. The weight of the outside world pressing against his temples and making him want to curl up into himself.

His counselor’s voice tsks in his head.  _ You can’t withdraw from the universe, Aaron. _

_ Even if it might be better without me in it? _ He’d choked out, wiping tears off his cheeks rough enough to redden them even more.

_ It wouldn’t be, not for anyone who knows you. _

He’s shocked at how vivid the memory feels, how tangibly he can feel the couch under his thighs, the rough scrape of his nails, bitten too low, as he drags them against his jeans.

The phone vibrates again, and he hates how his hands shake as he pulls it out.

  1. _Me. Pub. Saturday._ Adam’s message is accompanied by a gif of two cheersing pints, froth splashing.



The second message is from Vic.  _ Call me if you need anything this weekend. I’ll be free any time other than Saturday night. _

His mouth turns bitter as he types back  _ k _ and thinks of Robert out on his stag do while Aaron tends bar for the same people who’ve been sipping pints at the Woolie for decades.

_ im on at mum’s sat, but if you come by drinks on me _

The speed with which Adam answers makes the side of Aaron’s mouth curve into a small smile.  _ MATE! Course. Ill even make ur night with my first drink order: sex on the beach!  _ The accompanying emoji has an eyebrow raised. 

_ you can have pints or naught  _ he types back, a huff of laughter caught in his chest.

_ Just lost ur tip.  _

_ dont push me. still could make you pay. _

_ U wouldnt u luv me  _ Adam fills his screen with a massive wall of heart emojis.

_ shut up _ he responds instead before following it up with  _ see ya sat. _

_ Connections are important, keep those lines of communication open, Aaron.  _ His counselor’s voice rings in his ears again as he tucks the phone back into his pocket.

He inhales deeply, shrugging his shoulders against the numbness at his spine. 

____________________________________

Saturday lunch in a town pub isn’t what Aaron would call exciting. He’s mostly pulling pints for his own extended family and sometimes bringing food orders back to Marlon in the kitchen.

And his mum keeps popping in to squeeze his shoulders and smile too wide.

It’s obvious she’s worried for him, which makes him shrink into his hoodie and draw his brows together.

“Everything alright out here?” She’s got concern painted across her lips, and Aaron wants to groan at the ceiling.

“Yep. Same as the last three times you came out.” He grits through his teeth as he checks the cleaned glasses and glances at the clock. 

_ Only four. Still got hours left.  _ He sighs.  _ Can’t even hope I’ll sleep well. _

She puts her hand right in the middle of his back, and he can barely feel it, just the faintest hint of pressure. No warmth or texture, just a void slowly spreading out from his spine and taking over his shoulder blades. 

It’s unnerving, but Aaron knows she’ll lose it if he says anything, so he keeps his face blank and gestures at the back room, “Don’t you have books to balance today?”

She shrugs, “I’m mostly done, and-” She looks over Aaron’s shoulder, and smiles, “Oh! She’s here. I was worried she wouldn’t be able to come.”

Aaron shakes his head and turns. He’s glad he’d placed the glass back down before he did, because seeing Sarah Sugden wave to his mum might have made him drop it.

Chas is walking over before Aaron can react, and Sarah’s smiling until she catches Aaron’s eyes and hers are so full of pity it makes him want to be swallowed up by the ground beneath him.

_ She knows. Of course she knows.  _ He stares down at the glassware in front of him and shoves the tray back in place, feeling a little gratified by the loud clinking of glasses knocking together.

His mum is helping Sarah to a seat, and Aaron doesn’t want to hear, but he can’t help the way his ears seem to reach for her voice, “Robert dropped me off. He’s got a final suit fitting soon, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, stop it I never said a time. Just wanted to catch up is all, feel like I only ever hear about you through Vic now,” Chas interrupts, and Aaron feels a spike of fondness for his mother.

_ She knew she’d be alone all night. _

“Aaron! Two glasses of red,” Chas calls over before turning to Sarah with a tilt of her head, “And maybe one of Marlon’s flatbreads?”

Sarah smiles weakly, “Just a nibble, I don’t have much of an appetite.”

_ She looks thinner than the last time we spoke. _

He can see from across the bar the way Chas’ eyes soften, before she smiles even wider than before, “Marlon has been working on his version all week,” she leans in in a mock whisper. “They’re not as good as Vic’s, but he tries.”

That makes Sarah laugh. “Then I’ll have to try, just to keep his spirits up. Vic could use some competition.”

Aaron pours the glasses and brings them over, realizing he can’t reasonably stay away without making his mum suspicious. “Two reds.” He turns to Chas, “Next round you can come up and get, I’m not a waiter.”

She smacks him lightly. “Thank God. You’d lose me money hand over foot with your attitude.” 

“Sons, eh?” She smiles at Sarah, raising her glass to cheers, “Guess we have to love them.”

Aaron can’t keep his hands from clenching at that. He notices the slight halt in Sarah’s movement before she clinks her glass to Chas’. “We do. Even when they’re idiots.”

Aaron swallows, bowled over by Sarah’s silent apology.

“See?  _ She _ agrees with me.” Chas looks up at Aaron, who is frozen in place. She must see it on Aaron’s face because she opens her mouth to ask something before Sarah does him the courtesy of pulling Chas’ attention back.

“I’m so out of touch with the gossip... Did Val really convince Eric to redo the whole B&B?”

“You wouldn’t  _ believe _ the number of peacock feathers!” Chas exclaims, eyes back on Sarah. “And flamingos!”

Aaron manages to escape back behind the bar unnoticed by his mum.

____________________________________

Adam’s presence helps, once he finally shows around eight. He chats with a few of the locals, then leans against the bar, elbows braced, and tells Aaron stories about the new guys at his job that thought they could double their money by selling drugs out of the taxis.

“You should’ve seen Pete, mate. He pulled one of them out of the car so fast I thought he’d tear the guy’s arm off.” Adam demonstrates animatedly, waving his hands wildly.

Aaron wipes down the spilled lager from his friend’s glass. “Can’t believe they thought they’d be able to get away with something like that.”

“It’s our name on the cars, you know? We’ve just started making real money, and after Holly…” Adam shakes his head, “We weren’t having it.”

Aaron nods then turns and grabs a bag of Monster Munch from the wall, passing it to Adam silently.

Adam nods, taking a large sip before pulling the bag open and popping one into his mouth. 

“How are you and that bloke?” He says through chewing, and Aaron’s eyes widen in alarm as he looks over at Sarah to check she can’t hear.

Adam must think he’s worried about his mum, because his voice gets a bit quieter, “Still haven’t told her?”

Aaron crosses his arms, wrapping them around his chest, “No need. It’s finished.”

Adam stills, sighs, and leans the bag toward Aaron. “Sorry, bro.”

Aaron takes a puffy claw from the bag, popping it into his mouth and shrugging, aiming somewhere near unbothered.

Judging by the way Adam’s mouth gathers in concern, he misses by a mile. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” Aaron shakes his head, and when Adam holds his eye he looks at his feet and mumbles, “Not yet at least.”

“Well, when you do, I’m here.” Adam gestures toward himself. “And I’ll even buy the ice cream if you need a good cry.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, balling up the cloth and throwing it at his friend. “I hate you.”

“Another round, love!” His mum calls from the booth, her voice warm and open from red wine and hours of town gossip.

Aaron rolls his eyes and pulls a bottle of red from the shelf, opening it with ease. “You know you  _ can _ walk over here? It’s your pub.”

“Ungrateful.” She turns to Sarah, “Can you believe him?”

Sarah smiles softly across the bar at Aaron, “Seems like a good lad to me.” Her smile twists in a way that echoes the wry lift of Robert’s when he’s got an idea. “Even if he does want to make a sick old woman like me get left  _ all alone _ while her friend has to cross the bar for wine.”

Chas cackles as Aaron rolls his eyes and brings the bottle. “Here, so you don’t have to keep calling me over. This should be plenty.” 

Sarah holds a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Are you cutting us off?”

Chas turns, “I’ll have you know, we are  _ celebrating _ this woman getting a night out on her own before she has to be a mother-in-law.” 

Aaron clenches his jaw. Bitter anger threatening to up out his throat and out his mouth.

“Which I would be very happy if you would make  _ me _ sometime,” Chas barrels on, pouring a glass of wine.

_ He doesn’t  _ want _ that. Not with me. Not this time around. _

Aaron wants to scream, but instead he grits out, “I’m going on break.” Before walking into the back room, blood rushing in his ears.

He leans back against the frame of the door, trying to remember why he’d ever agreed to this miserable idea. Sleeping in his childhood bedroom over his mum’s pub just so  _ Robert _ can spend the perfect night out with his mates.

He presses the back of his skull hard into the wood and closes his eyes, wishing he could just forget the nightmare of a man. He can barely feel the press of the frame against bone.

_ Wonder if this is how it’ll always be. Numb til I die. Or he does. _

The thought twists in his gut, making him want to scream. He settles for pressing his thumb and forefinger on either side of the bridge of his nose and trying to calm his pulse. He squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can, letting the colors flicker behind his eyelids.

For a moment he feels dizzy and kind of sick. There’s leather under his palms, and his heart is racing as the space around him vibrates. There’s adrenaline rushing through his veins, fear tensing his every muscle. The floor of a car beneath his knee, taste of liquor on his tongue. Rumble of an engine in his ears.  _ Faster. _

_ This isn’t right. _

Aaron gasps in an inhale and he’s back in the pub, back in himself, and of  _ course _ Robert’s pushing him off kilter again. Of  _ course _ he’s in Aaron’s head again.

He can’t do this, not again.

Aaron walks to where his phone has been charging, roughly pulling out the cord, and moves to his contacts, clicking on Robert’s name, and looks at it for a moment.

_ Don’t let him back in. _

He selects ‘Block Contact’ and confirms it before he can stop himself.

He exhales shakily, then slips the phone in his pocket and returns to the bar.

Adam’s brow furrows, “Alright?”

Aaron shrugs. “Might be.”

His friend studies him before nodding. 

“Another?” Aaron gestures at the empty glass between them. At Adam’s nod he turns to the tap, looking up and seeing Sarah start in surprise as her bag begins to blare out  _ Spice Up Your Life. _

“That’s Vic!” Sarah begins scrambling through her bag, “Why would she be calling me?” She looks up at the clock on the wall.“Can’t be a drunk call, they’ve only been at it for an hour.”

“Probably just telling you they’re having fun, love.”

Sarah nods uncertainly as she finally finds the phone and answers it, “Hiya Vic!”

Aaron forces himself to turn away, to take a step toward Adam.

“I can barely hear you. Say it again?” Sarah’s voice is more panicked than it should be for a goodnight call.

“What do you mean you can’t find Robert?”

Aaron doesn’t manage to save Adam’s pint as it slips from his grip and smashes on the ground.

____________________________________

Aaron is grateful that the bar hides his face as he kneels and cleans up the mess he made.

_ Robert’s missing. _

His mind flashes to the confusing mess of sensations he’d gotten earlier. Knows Robert had felt scared. Had felt unsettled and anxious. 

_ But not terrified, right? Not like he might be in danger? _

He hates that he’s not quite sure.

When he stands Adam’s looking at him intensely, and Aaron doesn’t know what to do so he schools his expression into as blank as he can be, “Sorry, I’ll pull another.”

Adam moves in, leaning as far over the bar as he can, “ _ Robert Sugden _ was your bloke?”

_ Of all the moments to get a clue, Adam. _

Aaron’s tries to keep himself from reacting, but he knows he’s screwed the moment Adam puts a hand up, “You looked proper scared, Aaron. Like you’d seen a ghost.”

Aaron moves in so nothing can be heard by his mum, “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He looks over, and he shouldn’t have worried. Chas is totally focused on Sarah. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, he’s just having a bit of a wobble, Vic.” Sarah’s soothing her daughter over the phone.

She goes silent, and Adam grabs Aaron’s wrist, dragging his attention back to his mate, voice a shocked hiss. “You’re in lo-”

Aaron wrenches his arm from the grasp, “I’m serious, Adam. Piss off.”

Adam jerks back like he’s been burnt. 

“He doesn’t feel the same way, alright? He’s getting married, and I was just some ‘cosmic joke’ to him.” Aaron spits out, slamming the empty, beer-covered glass onto the bar. 

Adam looks conflicted, shrugging toward the table of women on the phone. “Doesn’t sound like he’s so sure anymore.”

Aaron looks at the ceiling. 

“He just doesn’t like the idea of settling. Probably went to find some new bit on the side. He’ll go crawling back to Chrissie tomorrow. Say he slept it off at some hotel.”

The words feel like lies on his tongue even as he spits them out.

Adam sighs at him, shaking his head. “Mate…”

“Please, Ads,” Aaron puts a hand up. “Please.” He’s embarrassed at the way his voice cracks a bit on the repetition.

He’s never been more grateful in his choice of friend than when Adam nods and sits back down. “This isn’t done.”

Aaron’s stomach drops as his friend stares at him, concern etched on his forehead. 

“But you don’t need me on your case tonight.” Adam finally says, and Aaron’s shoulders relax.

He swallows and nods, looking over at Sarah nervously.

She meets his eyes, phone still at her ear. She looks worried, even as Chas is rubbing circles on her back.

_ What are you thinking, Robert? _

____________________________________


	36. Chapter 36

“The driver isn’t picking up his phone.” Sarah’s voice is tense. She’s started drumming her fingers on the wooden tabletop, and she’s gotten pale in a way that worries Aaron.

_ She’s not well, she shouldn’t be dealing with this. _

Sarah picks up her phone again, holding it to her ear, “Pick up, Robert, please.”

Aaron worries at his bottom lip, watching her as he wipes down the bar again.

“You’ve cleaned that same spot six times, ya know?” Adam says quietly, one elbow on the bar, back to the door.

Aaron frowns down at the wood beneath his rag and crosses his arms angrily before walking out from behind the bar and propping himself up next to the other man. 

“I don’t know what to do,” He says down into his chest, scratching along his jaw with one hand.

Adam bumps his shoulder, “You told him?”

Aaron nods slowly.

“And he didn’t?”

Aaron stuffs his hand into his pocket and shrugs, mouth twisted in disappointment. 

He doesn’t need to see Adam’s face, his voice is soft and sad on Aaron’s behalf. “Then I don’t think there’s anything you  _ can _ do.” 

They stand there in silence, watching Sarah try to call Victoria again and Chas look up the numbers for car companies on her phone.

He closes his eyes, searching for Robert. There’s nothing behind his lids but darkness, but his stomach twists from nerves that aren’t his and his heart thuds inside a chest he knows is smattered with freckles.

_ Why is he so scared? _

He opens his eyes and his breath has sped up, the  _ thumpthumpthump _ of his heart rapid.

Aaron swallows down the worry as much as he can.

“Why’d you go for him, anyway?” Adam’s voice cuts in, making Aaron blink. “I mean, you knew what was going on, but you kept it up. What’s so good about him?”

Aaron looks at his trainers, examines the black toes and tries to put into words what he and Robert have. 

_ Had _ .

“Dunno.” He licks his lip, “I guess he made me feel like all my stuff—” Aaron gestures at his head. “Made sense.”

Adam frowns, opening his mouth in a question he bites off before he allows it to fall out, looking at Aaron expectantly.

“He just got it.” Aaron’s voice lowers, trailing off. “Me.”

Adam claps a hand onto his shoulder comfortingly. 

Aaron turns to watch Sarah rub a hand over her face, exasperation and worry in every wrinkle around her eyes. 

He walks over, and she looks up, meeting his gaze.

“I can drive ya back to Manchester.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, “So you can help Vic calm down.”

Chas’s mouth falls open, and Aaron has to keep talking to prevent her from asking questions he won’t answer. 

“I’ll drive right back.” He stares at the table between them, silently praying his mum will just think it’s a kind deed.

Sarah smiles, the first one she’s had in the half an hour since Vic first called. She looks about to answer when the door of the Woolpack slams open, a gust of air hitting Aaron’s back.

Sarah looks around him and her eyes widen, mouth falling open in surprise. “Robert!”

Aaron spins around, and Robert’s eyes don’t even glance over to his mother, they’re locked on Aaron. His hair is mussed and he has on a black suit with a thin bolo tie and a sheriff's badge on his chest. There’s even a set of toy pistols hung on a black leather belt at his waist.

Aaron takes this in in the instant before Robert crosses the room and reaches for him, hands cradling his jaw, clammy palms against his skin.

He doesn’t have time to react before Robert’s pressing a desperate kiss to his lips and—

_ He’s in one of the best cocktail bars in the city. Charlie from work keeps stealing his cowboy hat, and he’s just drunk enough to laugh at it each time. Vic looks like a saloon girl, and he’s had to tell Charlie three times already that he’s certain his sister isn’t also bisexual. _

_ He reaches out for his drink and looks up and over Vic’s shoulder, and there’s a man behind her with his back to them, and even though he knows exactly where Aaron is, is  _ certain _ that Aaron’s in Emmerdale, there’s something so familiar in the set of the man’s shoulders, in the way his head tilts while listening to the guy at his side. _

Maybe I could apologize—

_ The rush of guilt and hurt and anger when the man turns and it isn’t Aaron is strong enough make Robert grimace and take a sip just to ease the pain. _

_ The numbness at the base of his skull keeps spreading. _

_ His university mate Tim is at his side, and telling some story about when Robert started dating two people he didn’t know were neighbors and the farcical hijinks that came with it, ending with Robert getting kicked out in just his pants one night and needing a lift at half past four. _

_ Tim’s laughing, clapping Robert on the shoulder, “I never thought that Robert would find the one before me!” _

I did. I found the one.  _ He tries as hard as he can to picture Chrissie’s face when he thinks the words. _

_ Robert forces a smile over his drink and nods, chin tilted up. “Some of us have matured, Tim!” _

_ Charlie scoffs at his side, pulling out her pop gun and pointing it at Robert. “You put on a good face, but I  _ know _ you.” _

_ The way Robert’s heart clenches in fear makes him wheeze and cover it with another sip.  _

_ She continues, "I do! You try and cover your tracks, but I'm onto you." _

_ There's excuses piling up in his mouth, denial crawling up the back of his throat as she pushes the barrel into the spot above his heart. _

_ “I know you’re the one making those office signs in Papyrus like some idiot from 2005.” She narrows her eyes dramatically. _

_ That makes Robert nearly spit out his drink, laughter sweet on his tongue. _

_ “Whenever you finally get it together and get your own firm I’m coming just to save you from your taste!” She lopes a friendly arm over his shoulder and pulls him in, taking a deep sip of her martini. _

_ The smile falls from his mouth even as he nods, “You’re first on my list, Charlie.” _

I won’t get that future.

_ His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he has to swallow down his disappointment when he sees it’s Chrissie.  _

Have fun, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you at the altar! 

_ Her words turn his stomach even before her second message arrives.  _ But not too much fun, I want to be able to hang our wedding photos with pride some day.

_ He bitterly puts down his mobile, feeling the sting of her disapproval even through the phone. Vic meets his eyes and cocks her head in confusion, eyes asking a silent question.  _

_ He shakes his head, smiling wryly at her.  _

It’s just a wobble.

_ They move and hop into the limousine Vic’s hired out for the night before heading to a new location. Vic pulls out some cards along the way and Robert rolls his eyes. _

_ “Some questions about your fiancée!” The group lets out a groan. “Oh hush! It’s traditional! I asked Chrissie this week and she was nice enough to make time to respond, so we have to do at least a few.” _

_ Robert rubs his thumb across his brow. “Fine, Vic. Let’s go.” _

_ “What is Chrissie’s favorite food?” _

_ Robert frowns, searching for the right answer before remembering their first anniversary dinner when she’d told him, ankles entwined under the table, that she’d never had something more delicious. “Mushroom risotto.” _

_ Vic shakes her head, waving the index card. “She said a salad nicoise.” _

_ Robert scoffs,  _ She eats around the potatoes.

Aaron’s is a cheeseburger and chips _ springs to his mind without him needing to search.  _

_ Vic shuffles through the cards in her hands. “OK, this one should be easy: dream vacation?” _

_ Robert smiles confidently, remembering whispered stories about Chrissie and her mom exploring France together when she was a young girl. “She loves Paris.” _

_ Vic shakes her head again, “Nil for two, Robert: She said she wants to see Cinque Terre in the summer. Eat seafood on a cliff and lay on the beach all day.” _

At least it’s not Vegas. Or worse, Ibiza. 

_ Robert doesn’t get any questions right as his friends slowly go quiet, pouring glasses of liquor from the mini bar and taking sips to cover grimaces. Not a single answer Chrissie gave matches the stories he knows about her. Most of them don’t even match how she used to talk about their future.  _

_ Even worse: he's certain of every one of Aaron's answers.  _

_ They finally pull up to the next pub, and there’s a collective sigh of relief that the group can get some more drinks and bites to eat. Robert leans back against the car, and Vic comes up next to him, bumping her hip into his.  _

_ “Don’t worry. It’s about the big things, not the silly details.” She smiles up at him. “Like family and the future.” _

_ His stomach plummets.  _

What if it’s starting to seem like there’s nothing?

_ “I’ll be right in, Vic. I just need some air.” She looks at him with concern on her brow, and he waves her off. “Go on! They’ll need your information for the table, I just need to soothe my bruised ego.” _

_ She sighs at him, rolling her eyes fondly, “If you’re sure.” _

_ He nods, and leans in to kiss the top of her head. “I am.” _

_ She pulls back, head tilted. _

_ Robert pulls out his phone, shaking it at his sister. "I'm going to call my fiancée now. Make sure she's having a good night." _

_ Vic laughs and pushes off him, heading into the restaurant.  _

_ Robert taps on Chrissie’s name. As the line rings he tries to picture her face, the way she smiles at him on lazy weekend mornings in bed. Well, the way she smiled.  _

_ He can’t remember the last time she looked at him like that, face open and soft.  _

_ “Robert! Drunk calling me already? You are getting on, time was you would stay out all night.” There’s a sharp laugh in her voice. A mocking accusation that makes him shake his head guiltily. _

Most of those nights I was with other people.

_ “No, just wanted to hear your voice.” He says, grasping for something to say. _

_ He can almost hear her smile, “That’s so sweet. Are you having fun playing cowboys with your friends?” _

_ He looks down at his suit, laughing lightly, “Yeah, Vic went all out.” _

_ “I’m glad.” There’s a pause, “Nothing untoward I hope? No busty saloon girls throwing themselves at you?”  _

_ He shakes his head, “No, Chrissie. Just my friends and a long list of best gin cocktails in Manchester to try.” _

_ She hums over the phone, “Even Charlie? Is she keeping her hands to herself?” _

_ He sighs, tired of the conversation they’ve had so many times already. “She’s just a mate. We kissed  _ once _ , at an office party six years ago. And anyways, she’s more interested in Vic than me.” _

_ “Classic. Never settling.” She says it offhandedly, but he can’t keep himself from feeling the words like a blow. _

_ “Don’t.” He spits out.  _

_ She sighs over the line, “I didn’t mean anything by it. Clearly some of you lot settle down,  _ you’re _ marrying me, aren’t you?” _

_ The shiver of dread that crawls along his skin makes his hands shake. He runs one over the back of his head, feeling the hair under his hand but no responding sensation on his neck. _

I need you to know me. Please just show me you know me.

_ “Well this is so sweet, but I have to go. Karen is on her way over for wine night, she’s finally gotten a night away from the kids. Can’t believe she let herself have two so close in age. It means she’s just never free. We’re waiting at least four years between if you really insist on a second one.” _

I want a house full. _The thought catches in his chest painfully._

_ “Alright. I’ll let you go.” He wishes he missed her. Wishes he wanted her to stay. _

_ “Next time we see each other it will be at the altar.” There's excitement in her tone, and Robert bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something wrong.  _

_ Chrissie doesn't notice his silence, just blows a kiss into the receiver. “Be good!” _

_ He hangs up without responding, feeling like the pavement beneath his feet is slowly starting the crumble, leaving him hunting for steady ground. _

Aaron.

_ The world feels like it’s collapsing in around him. And the only person he wants to talk to, the only person who has ever made him feel certain of his footing— _

_ He thumbs through his contacts and presses Aaron’s name.  _

Aaron.

_ It rings out, and the answering machine picks up, “The number you have reached is unavailable.” _

_ No Aaron’s gruff voice telling him to “leave a message.” _

_ Aaron’s blocked his number. _

_ He’s trying to end it. For real this time. That hits harder than the nothingness of each nights’ dreamless sleep. There’s so little left between them. _

_ He closes his eyes, feeling his heart race, an intense rush of fear flowing over him. A life never seeing Aaron. A life with Chrissie. It makes him feel cold and sick. _

_ He pulls the car door open and leans in, “Any chance you can bring me somewhere?” _

_ The man turns around and shrugs, “It’s your night. I’ll just have to check with Ms. Sugden.” _

_ Robert shakes his head, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll give you two hundred quid if you don’t, and an extra fifty if you drive the whole way with your phone off.”  _

_ The man doesn’t seem that bothered to be disappointing Victoria as he puts the bills into his pocket. “Right then, where to?” _

_ “Emmerdale.” _

_ As the limo starts moving Robert leans forward and fills a glass with whatever is in the tumbler the group took out earlier. _

_ His stomach is in knots, heart racing, so he takes a deep swig, and tries to feel the burn as it flows down his esophagus. It makes him even more aware of how the base of his neck is buzzing and numb. _

_ Robert presses a hand to the leather seat and turns his phone off. _

_ He needs to talk to him. _

_ Just once more. _

_ Just to know. _


	37. Chapter 37

“Robert!” Sarah’s voice cuts through the flood of sensations like a bucket of ice water.

Aaron’s back in his skin, in the Woolpack, with Robert’s hands clutched so tight in his hoodie that he knows the zippers must be biting into the other man’s palms.

His breath is coming hard and fast, pupils blown wide, and despite his mother’s shout Robert’s eyes haven’t left Aaron’s face. 

“Aaron!” Chas’s shrill cry breaks the hold of Robert’s gaze, and Aaron turns, still blinking away the shock of the press of Robert’s lips on his. He can’t get far, Robert’s hands haven’t loosened their hold.

_ What did I just do?  _ Robert’s whole body is nearly screaming, knuckles white where he is grasping fabric.

Aaron finally notices the bitter taste of whiskey on his lips, the slight earthiness and burn in the air around Robert.

_ Is he drunk? _

Aaron brings his own hands up, ready to throw Robert’s off, but the moment his thumbs are pressing against the pulse at Robert’s wrists he’s overwhelmed with sensation.

_ The ride to Emmerdale is longer than Robert remembers, and the whole way his blood is thrumming in his veins, adrenaline coursing through him. _

_ His knee is bouncing uncontrollably, so he runs his palms across his thighs to press them down into the seat. His mind is full of all the faces of people who are going to hate him for this. It makes him shaky and sick with fear. _

_ He can't blink away the way Chrissie snarls when she’s really angry, the way she screams and spits. How she’ll say she always knew he’d never actually care for anyone. That all her friends had warned her off him with how he's been before. That she’d worked  _ so hard _ to get her dad to accept him even when Robert never asked for any of that. _

_ The quiet disapproval his sister tries to hide when she hears he’s let  _ another _ relationship fail. The sides of her mouth turning down, eyes sad as she hugs him tight and tells him she just wants him to be happy. _

_ His mother’s exhausted eyes, the way she’ll shake her head at him. Just as she used to when he came home reeking of cheap cider back in school. She’s not meant to have big stressors on her system. The doctor said she should relax. _

_ Just another addition to the list of ways he’s been a disappointment. _

_ He didn’t mean to disappoint them. _

_ “Just me, then” Aaron’s hurt voice echoes in his mind, the way he’d looked so  _ broken _ after Robert’s rejection. _

_ The last words his father ever said to him when they went and visited him in hospital. Sarah and Vic off getting a brew, leaving Robert twitching awkwardly in his uncomfortable plastic chair. They’ve been in the room for hours and all Jack’s done is dote on Vic, snipe with Sarah, and ignore Robert’s existence. _

_ “I’ve started at a small firm in Manchester, but they have interesting clients, and I should be able to get a good portfolio.” He’s quietly updating the man lying prone next to him. _

_ “Hmm.” Robert can never tell if the judgement he hears is just in his head or if it’s actually steeped in every sound Jack makes in his direction. _

_ “Why’d you leave the last place?” There’s no mistaking the suspicion in his tone. _

_ Robert stares down at the speckled laminate tiling beneath his shoes, bitter anger bubbling up inside him. “Boss didn’t like being introduced to Jeremy.” _

_ The short, gruff exhale of anger from his father gives him hope for a moment, that maybe he’ll be defended for  _ once _. “Never did learn not to flaunt  _ that _ around people. Not even when it’s your job on the line.” _

_ Something deep in Robert snaps. _

_ He looks up and sneers at the man in front of him, seeing for the first time how frail he’s gotten, none of the hulking brute he cowered from in the barns.  _

I'm not scared of you.

_ “Don’t worry da, I learned one lesson from you,” The words shoot out bitterly, his father deigning to look up at that. "I fucked his wife last month."  _

_ Right after Jeremy’d ended it with him because with a new job he didn’t have time to be a good boyfriend. _

_ Jack rolls his eyes. _

_ “What, don’t like that I followed in your footsteps? Thought you’d be proud.” Robert can’t keep his voice under control, and a nurse looks through the glass at them. _

_ “You’re being childish.” Jack doesn’t rise to the fight, just shakes his head at him and crosses his arms, so Robert gets up to go. _

_ It’s only when he’s at the door that Robert turns, knowing Jack is sick enough that this may be the last time they speak. _

_ Jack’s staring at him, jaw set and brows drawn together. _

_ “You’re  _ such _ a disappointment, Robert.”  _

_ It's a punch to the gut, the blunt words coming so easily from his father's mouth. _

_ Robert had refused to come on the next visit with Vic. Jack died the day after.  _

_ Robert takes another sip of what he’s learned is whiskey in his glass, and winces. For all its flash, the limousine company hasn’t put out the good stuff. _

_ Aaron’s mind flashes in his mind, the way he’d looked at Robert when they were in a nightmare, like Robert could actually do something for the other man. Like he could  _ help _.  _

_ The way he’d leaned in when Robert had held him, like Robert was someone to be relied upon. To be trusted. _

I don’t want to be a disappointment anymore.

_ The drink sloshes in his hand, spilling a little onto his shirtsleeve, and he puts it down, rubbing a hand over his face. He winces at the scent of cheap liquor soaking into the cloth. _

“Aaron—” the fact that the first word out of Robert’s mouth is his name feels like a promise.

All of a sudden Aaron desperately wants to be anywhere but in front of an audience.

“Not here.” He shakes his head, and turns to the two women watching them with mouths open and eyes wide, putting a hand up when his mum moves to speak again, grateful in a way he can’t voice when Sarah puts her hand on Chas’s arm.

And then he’s dragging Robert back into the back room of his mum’s pub, careful to grab hold of the sleeve of Robert’s shirt rather than link their hands, too afraid of getting sucked back into whatever is rushing through Robert’s mind.

When they’re alone he can finally let himself really look at Robert, at the way his hair is a little askew, his eyes red at the edges. He looks wrecked in a way Aaron’s not really seen before.

Robert’s mouth opens, then closes, and he looks at the floor for a second as he pulls in a calming breath.

Aaron’s ready to jump out of his own skin, but he gives Robert the moment to explain himself. Needs to actually  _ hear  _ Robert say something real _. _

“I’m actually a really good dancer.” Falls from Robert’s mouth.

Aaron doesn’t know what to do with that so he just blinks, mouth a tight line, trying to think of anything that could be in response to.

Robert shakes his head, looking down at Aaron's chest, his voice quiet. “Chrissie got us a couple lessons. So we could do a whole first dance performance, and she  _ kept saying _ it was so I wouldn’t embarrass her. That it was an important day and there’d be cameras.”

“But I’m alright, I think.” Robert’s voice has gone soft, and Aaron’s at the end of what he can handle from the other man.

“So you came here and kissed me?” He scoffs. “Because your misses thinks you can’t dance?”

“No.” Robert shakes his head ruefully, “No, I told her it was a good idea. Just like I told her I liked the idea of a big elaborate formal wedding up at Home Farm, and like I said I loved mid century modernist minimalism, and that it would be wonderful to have at least five years to ourselves before starting a family, and that one day we could buy some grand estate out in the middle of nowhere, and that I don’t even  _ like _ chocolate that much so of course we could have lemon as our cake, and—” Robert’s words are speeding up and he’s stopped looking at Aaron, and it shouldn’t feel like a loss, but it  _ does _ .

“Rob—” He tries to step in, but Robert steps back.

“—And like I told her I loved her enough to stay with her forever.” Robert’s voice is tight, and Aaron stills.

“But I don’t.” Robert breaths out. His hands are shaking, and he’s breathing heavily like he’s on the verge of tears.

Aaron’s heart is hammering in his ears, but he forces himself to stay still because just because Chrissie isn’t who Robert wants doesn’t mean he’ll choose Aaron, and Aaron’s done letting the choice hang between them. He needs to hear Robert confess to more than that.

Robert steps in, bringing them close enough to touch, but not reaching out. “When I told you I wanted my own firm, you didn’t poke holes in the idea.”

Once again confused by the paths Robert’s mind is taking, Aaron frowns, “Why would I? Don’t know the first thing about advertising.”

“I think you’re the first person apart from my mum that thought I could do something like that." Robert shakes his head in disbelief. "Something big.”

Robert’s hand comes up, loosely cradling the side of Aaron’s neck, eyes caught on Aaron’s lips. “You’ve seen every mistake I’ve ever made, and you still think I can be someone.”

“I didn’t know what it was like to have someone get me until you. And then you showed up, and you didn’t let me hide. You looked right at it all and you still—” Robert swallows thickly, gave traveling up to Aaron’s eyes, “You still cared.”

Aaron can’t help the way the edges of his eyes are prickling with tears, or the way he leans into the palm against his skin. Robert's eyes are clear and focused on Aaron's face, tracking over each feature.

“I don’t care that I’m disappointing people if all I do is ruin my own chances for happiness. I can’t keep choosing things because they’re easy or they look good on my CV. I want to have something for myself, that I actually want.” Robert leans in and rests his forehead against Aaron’s, breath hot on Aaron’s face. 

“Every single time I think about my future you’re there.” He barely exhales the words, but they’re clear enough that Aaron can feel each one as they slam into his heart.

_ I love you so much it scares me _ echoes through his mind, wispy tendrils of want curling through his very being.  _ You’re everywhere. _

Robert shakily presses his lips to Aaron’s, a soft barely-there promise of a kiss.

There’s no memory that settles, all of them swirling blurs of emotion and sensation at the edges of Aaron’s mind.

They break apart slowly, Robert putting just enough space between their lips for words, “I love you.”

Hearing the words out loud makes Aaron’s breath hitch, his hands reaching into the small space between them, trying to decide where to put them, where to touch Robert again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.” Robert presses their foreheads together again, eyes closed as he runs the bridge of his nose along Aaron’s.

Aaron sniffs, embarrassed by the tear that escapes his eye, even as he smiles and whispers, “S’alright, you can make it up to me.” 

Robert closes the distance between them again, and Aaron is embarrassed by the little noise it pushes out his chest, but Robert smothers the sound in kiss after kiss. Aaron puts his hand over Robert’s where it’s still cupping his neck, and holds it there. Holds himself together through the touch.

Robert’s other hand rests on Aaron’s chest, right above his heart, and Aaron brings his up to interlock with Robert’s, long fingers between his own blunt ones.

_ You’re it for me.  _

And even though Aaron’s heard those words from Robert’s mouth in countless lives before, gasped and screamed and whispered and mumbled, he’s sure they’ve never been this sweet.

“Yeah?” He tries to keep the tremble of caution from his voice.

Robert must hear it though, because he thumbs along the line of Aaron’s jaw, smoothing the hairs as he goes. He nods, voice a little wobbly with emotion. “Yeah.”

Robert leans back in and presses a sweet slow kiss to Aaron’s mouth, no urgency behind it. A promise of an unending number of them in their future.

____________________________________


	38. Chapter 38

They stand together for a quiet moment more, Aaron’s hand having found its way into Robert’s, his forehead on Robert’s shoulder, Robert’s free hand around Aaron, splayed at the base of his spine, fizzling sparks of warmth making Aaron want to pull Robert upstairs and lock his door.

There’s commotion outside, and Aaron wonders if Robert is going to step back put distance between them, give himself an out, but Robert squeezes tighter, pressing a kiss to his temple.

_ I told you, I’m in this. _

Adam knocks on the door and ducks his head in apologetically, “Sorry, but your mums're about to come back here, held ‘em off as long as I could.”

Robert’s face blanches a bit, “Can’t say I want to have this conversation.”

“You and me both, least your mum is  _ nice _ .” Aaron mumbles against Robert’s collar before pulling back and turning so he can face his friend.

Adam looks between the two of them, gaze landing on Robert.

“You planning on ever hurting my friend again?” He narrows his eyes, straightening his shoulders and puffing his chest up a bit. 

Aaron rubs an exasperated hand across his brow. “Adam—”

“I can’t promise that, but—” Robert’s grip pulls Aaron closer, “I don’t want to.”

Adam nods at that, glancing at Aaron with a small smile. “If you do, his family is fond of a car boot.”

Aaron looks at the ceiling and sighs in exasperation while Robert tightens his arm briefly, “Noted.”

_ Pretty sure I could take Cain. _

_ You could not. _

He feels the shake of a laugh through Robert’s side.

“You have two minutes to explain yourself.” Chas screeches as she shoves open the door, nearly barreling into Adam as she plants herself in front of the two men. 

Robert moves, blocking Aaron slightly with a shoulder, hands out placatingly, “Chas-”

“Not you.” She focuses in on Aaron and gestures at Robert, fire in her stare, “I know why  _ he _ strayed, it’s what he does. What I want to know is why you let yourself get mixed up with the likes of  _ Robert Sugden. _ ”

“That’s my son you’re slagging off!” Sarah must have walked in behind Chas, because her offended tone makes Chas’s eyes widen minutely.

She turns and pauses before shrugging, “Not saying anything anyone wouldn’t say.”

Aaron almost laughs at the shocked look crosses Sarah’s features before she makes eye contact with her son and her mouth twists wryly. “Sure, but not in  _ front _ of him. Behind closed doors, like civilized people.”

“Mum!” Robert nearly squawks. “A little support would be appreciated.”

Sarah shakes her head, “Not after the way you’ve been leading him on ‘til now. Planning a whole wedding with someone who thinks farmhouse is just a  _ charming aesthetic _ . She’s never even been on a farm. See how much she likes rustic unfinished wood when she’s cleaning up the tenth spill of the day.”

“I…” Robert’s large hand scrubs across his face.

“You  _ knew _ ?” Chas turns on Sarah, “You let my boy get wrapped up in all this?”

Aaron groans. “Mum!”

“You sat there all day, in  _ my _ pub, and lied to my face!” Chas’s cheeks are red, voice strained, “You watched him suffer for hours while Robert was out doing God knows what.”

The color leaves Sarah's cheeks as Chas directs the anger toward her.

“That’s it.” Aaron strides forward, stepping between his mother and Sarah, pointing at Chas. “You. Step back, Sarah hasn’t done anything wrong. She even warned me off him.” 

“Fat lot of good that did.” Sarah mutters behind him.

Robert moves to her side, “Let’s get you a chair.”

With Aaron in front of her again Chas softens slightly, “You’ve just gotten your head on straight, love. You’re finally properly settled, and you’ve got a good job.”

The unspoken  _ decades _ of pain she’s watched him endure fills the air between them.

“You’ve got so much going for you, I just don’t want you throwing your life away for the likes of him.”

_ Aaron had so little, just his plot of land and enough sheep to keep him fed on cheese and meat year round. When Robert came through the village, sword on his back and tales of adventure on his lips, Aaron had sold it all to follow him. _

“I’m not throwing away anything, mum.” He looks at Robert who is perched on the couch arm, eyes on Sarah, one hand on her shoulder.

“He loves me.” He looks back at Chas, nervous suddenly, “And I love him.”

Her mouth goes slack, eyes widening in surprise.

“You’ve never…” Chas’s eyes are watery, “You’ve never said that to me about  _ anyone _ .”

Aaron nods, pulling his hands into his sleeves, and hooking his thumbs into his pockets, trying to calm himself.

_ I’ve never felt like this before. _

_ Please _ _understand_. He wills silently, holding her gaze, worrying the inside of his own cheek.

Her mouth twists unhappily, “If I could’ve picked anyone for you it wouldn’t have been him.”

Aaron sighs, “I know.”

There’s a weighty silence as she looks at him intently, then steps forward and wraps him in her arms, trapping his by his sides, “As long as he keeps you happy I’ll manage.”

She pulls back, and he frees his hands, ready to hug her back, but she sniffs and squeezes his arms, “But one step out of line and our Cain will have a word.”

That shocks a small laugh from him, “He knows.”

“He better.” She looks over at the sofa where Robert is still perched, phone inches from his ear, a woman’s tinny voice shouting from it, a look of pain on his face.

“Vic or Chrissie, you think?” 

Aaron shakes his head ruefully, “Vic. He’ll need to tell Chrissie in person or she might actually burn his flat down.”

Chas hums, “Can’t say I’d blame her.”

Aaron nods silently in agreement.

____________________________________

Home Farm looks amazing, tables piled high with floral centerpieces, elegant place settings and crystal glassware glittering under the tasteful exposed Edison bulbs strung across the ceiling.

Aaron feels out of place in his suit he’s only worn to court and funerals.

When he’d put it on there’d even been a remembrance card in the pocket from some distant Dingle’s ceremony.

The band is playing quietly, and servers in black and white suits are circling with plates of tiny appetizers Aaron doesn’t recognize. He’s wary, since he was just tricked by a small pie that was filled with a grey pate he had to spit out into a napkin.

A palm settles between his shoulder blades, and the sparks of sensation run along his skin and down his arms.

“The woman with the red hair has mini sausage rolls.” Robert whispers into his ear, warmth from his closeness making Aaron’s cheeks flush.

He covers it with a sip from the glass he’d grabbed from a tray just for something to do with his hands.

He turns towards Robert, eyes catching on the deepening bruise at his cheek.

_ Chrissie had taken the news poorly. She’d thrown a glass decanter towards the wall and the top had flung off and hit Robert. Aaron had pressed a bag of peas to it, linking his other hand’s fingers through Robert’s. “You still sure?” _

_ Robert had looked up so fast Aaron had had to catch the bag, making Robert wince as it pressed too hard against his cheekbone, “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Aaron.” _

Robert notices where his gaze lies and shrugs, “think we can all say I deserved it.”

Aaron reaches up and thumbs across it lightly, “You did, a bit.”

The corners of Robert’s eyes wrinkle as he smiles, and Aaron’s heart skips a beat.

“Do you think my good looks will survive? I’ve just recently landed the love of my life, and I don’t want him leaving me.” Robert’s voice is low and soft, caressing Aaron’s ears.

“Depends.” He tilts his head, appraisingly, “Long as he doesn’t mind his man looking a little rough, you should be alright.”

“Good thing you’re a bit of rough yourself, then.” Robert’s smile is lopsided and wide. His hands drift down to Aaron’s waist, and Aaron’s free one moves to press flat on Robert’s chest, right above his heart. 

The band is playing something Aaron can’t recognize, and Robert’s humming along, shifting back and forth.

“What are you playing at?” Aaron raises a brows at the taller man.

“Nothing.” Robert steps side to side, pulling Aaron a bit closer, making him settle his hands on Robert’s collarbones so his arms aren’t trapped between them awkwardly.

Aaron lets himself shift slightly with the pressures of Robert’s palms at his sides.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing. Feels like you’re dancing.”

Robert smiles, “Well seeing as how you don’t dance, can’t be that.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t plant his feet, just lets Robert sway slightly back and forth. 

They’re startled out of their movement by a loud clinking of a piece of metal against a glass, “Excuse me! Excuse me!”

Robert’s eyes go wide, and Aaron turns around to see Sarah in a chair, clinking her knife against the glass in her hand. She’s being held up nearly five feet in the air by Adam and Pete, seat balanced on their shoulders.

_ How on earth did she rope them into that? She’s never even met Pete before tonight. _

_ She loves a party. _ The warmth in Robert's chest spreads out to Aaron's.

“Thank you all for coming to my party.” Sarah waves around her, “I know it may have been a bit of a mess to get here, and I’m sure some of you were expecting a bit more ceremony.”

The small crowd laughs. Thankfully most guests were more or less local and Robert had managed to reach almost all of them.

“But, just think: if you didn’t get the message, you now have an expensive gift you can return, and a free bar to drown your anger in.” Her smile grows.

_ It’s costing me a mint. _ Robert whinges against Aaron’s skull.

“And for those of you who are here to celebrate me, it’s been so lovely to see you all tonight!” She waves at the group, “There’s not much I like more than getting to have a bit of a party.”

She raises her glass above her head, “So, to my son, whose questionable choices are the reason all of this is possible, and to my fabulous self for surviving this long!”

Aaron feels Robert’s heart clench inside his chest. 

There’s good natured laughs around them followed by the clinking of glasses together. Sarah takes a sip, finding Robert and smiling at him, tilting her glass at his. “Now, let’s dance!” 

The band begins to play something familiar and she taps Pete’s shoulder and Adam and Pete carefully lower her down.

Robert walks over, and Aaron follows, watching interestedly as Adam darts over to Vic.

_ I think I know why he helped out. _

_ I swear if he even  _ thinks _ about my sister.  _ Robert flares protectively in his mind.

_ You’ll do nothing because she’s a grown woman and he’s my best mate. _

Robert sighs.  _ I’ll tell him about the way the Barton on his logo is designed makes it look like a knob. _

That makes Aaron laugh as they get close enough to Sarah to have their voices heard over the music. “Nice speech.”

She nods at Aaron, leaning in conspiratorially, “Figured I would leave your name out of it, just in case some of Chrissie’s side came.”

“Cheers.” He raises his glass at her and takes a sip.

She looks better than he’s seen her apart from in Robert’s memories, eyes bright, a little flush on her cheeks from the champagne.

Robert crouches down so he’s on level with her, “Glad you’re having fun at the Sarah Sugden Soirée!” He sweeps a hand back around the crowd dramatically.

“I’m having a wonderful time, but—” She reaches a hand up and pats his cheek smile wide and a laugh in her tone, “That’s the worst name you’ve come up with since you had that pet pig you named Mister Hamalot.” 

Robert looks offended, “His name was  _ Sir _ Hamalot.” He turns to Aaron, “He was the one from the hill.”

_ At eight Robert spends hours making a mud puddle at the base of a hill, bringing buckets from the well and mixing it with his wellies. He then takes Sir Hamalot to the top and tries to demonstrate how to slide down the mud on his bum. _

_ Sarah had laughed so hard she’d cried at the sight of him covered head to toe while his pig walked beside him, completely mud free except for prints of Robert’s hands where he’d tried to push. _

“You told him about that? Why?” Sarah tilts her head, and they both freeze, trying to come up with an explanation. 

Thankfully she shakes it off. “I will never understand men.”

Aaron shrugs back at her, “Wouldn’t try to, if I were you.”

Robert straightens and reaches down, “Well, woman of the hour, can I have this dance?”

Sarah stands slowly, and Robert easily holds her weight as they make their way to the dance floor.

Aaron watches them, warmth spreading in his chest.

He’s embarrassed to say the feeling doesn’t abate when the two of them start to shimmy and pull faces at each other.

It might even grow.

____________________________________


	39. Chapter 39

He is once again in the dry valley, sandy stone around him, rocky formations jutting out of the walls. He can hear his own heavy breathing, the drumming beat of his pulse in his ears.

There’s something strange about how he’s standing, like he’s leaning against something, and he almost knows what it is, but he’s not quite ready to think about it just yet.

 _They say the Gods are angry._ Robert’s voice weaves through his mind, flowing into the empty spaces like mercury.

 _Let them come for us, I’ll find you._ He replies.

They’ve never needed words.

He opens Robert’s eyes and sees the place behind him, the swirling storm is building in every direction, Robert’s hands rub together nervously.

Aaron’s eyes open back up, and he’s always seen like this, the full surroundings, their two sets of eyes watching in every direction, always at each other’s backs, one and the same.

The lightning flashes bright, slicing through the air with an inaudible inhale, the scream of it slicing through them, making them _not_ _them_.

Blood is dripping from his back, down his shoulders and staining the dirt below him. It’s matting in his hair and sticking on his lashes.

_I have to get to Robert. I have to get to me._

There’s blood on the earth between them, making deep red mud, and Aaron keeps wiping it from his own eyes, feeling the sticky slick of it matting his hair.

Robert’s on the ground, and Aaron’s whole being is aching because he knows they’re not _supposed_ to be apart. They’re _one_. They’ve always been one.

The storm picks up around them, a final act of vengeance by the gods, the whirling scream of the wind deafening, the rocks and sticks it picks up slicing across Aaron’s cheeks and chest, grit sticking in the blood that drips down his cheek, open wound a screaming mass of pain at his back.

“I’ll find you.” He can barely choke out, dust and blood and wind shoving the words back down his throat. 

Robert holds his gaze, even as the clouds reach down to pull at them, “I know.”

____________________________________

Aaron’s painfully nervous. He’s never tried keeping something so big from Robert, has had to work on his mental barriers, keeping Robert away from the corner space he’s trying to keep his secrets in. 

It feels _wrong_ , but he wants so badly to keep the idea from reaching Robert.

He’s grateful in the recent months they’ve learned not to search, to walk away from dream doors that have locks on them, keep hands off skin when either need a breather after an intense conversation.

Robert knows to wrap Aaron in a blanket after counseling sessions, letting him feel Robert’s weight muffled by layers, uncomplicated by whatever they are.

 _Soulmates._ Robert’s deep rumble cuts through Aaron’s mind, the way he whispers it sometimes on the thin skin at Aaron’s throat, followed by a swipe of his tongue.

Aaron agreed to wear gloves for two days after Sarah passed, Robert’s pain too visceral and deep, an aching maw of darkness screaming through Aaron’s mind. The void pulling them both down and in like a black hole. Robert said he needed space.

On day three he’d thrown them off and placed his palms on either side of Robert’s face, pouring every golden bit of light he had into him, each time Sarah had pulled Aaron aside and told him stories about Robert as a child, each dinner of toast they’d shared when Robert worked late, her giggly crush on Idris Elba, the way her face would light up when Robert called, the smile she had when she looked at her children, the little humming dance she did watching Countdown and finding words, the way she’d stood up to Chrissie when she’d come by, all venom and pain, and the soft smiles she had in the hospital while Vic told her stories about her newest recipes and Robert read her C.S. Lewis.

The void in Robert didn’t disappear, but it shrank, leaving room at the periphery for Robert to exist. The edges of him lightened slightly, Aaron’s palms were wet with tears, Robert’s hands clutched at Aaron’s sides painfully.

He slept that night curled around Robert, dreams full of splinters and scraped knees and broken hearts from young crushes and a mum always waiting for him at home to help kiss it better.

Aaron shakes his head, wiping a tear of his cheek, and looks around the space, second guesses himself as he tries to remember _exactly_ what color Robert had imagined the walls to be, hopes he’s gotten it close enough.

He pulls out his phone, types _come here_ and pins his location.

The response is quick, _Why are you in a law office? What did you do? Am I calling Chas or Cain?_

Aaron shakes his head, _im fine just come._

 _Alright, be there in twenty._

Aaron has twenty minutes to check the empty rooms over again, frowning at the state the shady lawyer had left the closets. 

His phone buzzes, it’s Nick, _You showed him yet?_

 _doin it now_ is all he types back before Siobhan’s text comes in, _Dinner this weekend to celebrate?_

 _sure_ he responds, shaking his head at the couple. They’re most likely sitting next to each other messaging him, which means Mark will know all the details before Aaron even arrives at work the next day.

Meddling busybodies is not what he expected when he started working for mechanic brothers, but he’ll take it.

Robert makes it to Aaron in eighteen minutes and Aaron’s practically worn a grove in the carpet. He’s pulled the strings of his hoodie tight, making the hood bunch up against his neck, and when he hears Robert’s steps on the stairs up to the office space he quickly unscrunches the fabric.

“Aaron?” Robert’s voice echoes in the empty entrance space, question in his eyes as he looks at the walls, taking in the plastic sheeting and fresh paint smell. “Oh God, you finally killed that guy with the Mini, and now I’ve got to help you clean the scene.”

Aaron’s so twisted up he can’t even bring himself to roll his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to take a settling breath.

Robert’s face goes somber, “What’s wrong?” he moves to touch Aaron, and Aaron shakes his head and steps back.

“Lemme just-” Aaron swallows, “Let me say it, alright?”

Robert freezes, and there’s so much concern on his face that Aaron almost feels bad, but he presses on, and opens his mouth and rubs a hand across his chin. 

“Gordon died.”

There’s a beat and Robert’s brow furrows, “Months ago, I know.”

He looks around, “It wasn’t you, right? You’d have told me?”

“No, I did not kill my estranged father!” Aaron can’t keep the annoyance from his voice.

Robert looks slightly relieved and for a moment Aaron is offended, but he barrels on, needing to get everything out. “When he died, it turns out he left me money. Said it was for my medical care.”

“I think it were because he didn’t have anyone else, and he wanted one last way to control me.” Aaron shrugs, “Or to tell me one last time he thinks I need to be locked away, or drugged up out of my mind.”

Robert’s shoulders sag. “Why didn’t you say anything until now?”

“I don’t want his disgusting money.” Aaron spits out, “I don’t want a single thread of me tied to any piece of him.”

Robert steps in, keeping himself from touching Aaron, but offering his support silently. 

Aaron takes a shuddering breath in, wanting to lean into Robert's space.

“Thought about burning it, if I’m honest, but then I was fixing the lawyer who used to work here’s car, and he was saying he wanted a change of location, and showed me the space on his phone.” Aaron gestures, “And there was a big window, and the brick you’re always on about.”

Robert’s eyes widen.

“I know it doesn’t have a spiral staircase, or the whole open plan thing, but it’s got enough room for a small team, and there’s a nice posh glass table in the meeting room.” Aaron points behind Robert. 

Robert’s mouth falls slightly open, “You bought an office?”

Aaron nods, and licks his lips, heart in his throat. 

“For me?” Robert’s voice is quieter than normal, an edge of disbelief in it.

Aaron shrugs, “Thought the money could do some good. Get you out of that place, give you enough breathing room to find some clients? Then maybe one day-”

Robert moves so fast Aaron can’t keep up, and he wraps his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, broad chest pressed to Aaron’s, cheek resting against Aaron’s temple. “Thank you.”

Aaron presses his brow into Robert’s shoulder, hands coming up to rest on Robert’s lower back.

_I love you._

_Love you too._

Aaron’s not really sure who says either part, but it doesn't matter.


End file.
